The Grand Vizier of Oz
by Sedri
Summary: ."Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything-!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.
1. The Reporter

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Author's Notes: This story began because I wondered what it would take for the characters of _Wicked_ to actually achieve a _real_ 'happily ever after' – what work they'd have to do, what troubles they'd have to deal with, and what things would never work out no matter what. I wanted it to be canonically plausible, not a total fantasy with no sadness or negative consequences. I think I've managed.

This is musical-verse, but I've included some things from the book, mostly names and places which can fill out the musical world. There are some things I've deliberately left out – my characterisations of the Wizard, Frexspar and Melena are based on the impressions I got the first time I saw the show, particularly Joel Grey's performance (his "always longed to be… a father!" broke my heart), and that of the Melena actress, who looked so sad when she reached out for her baby that Maguire's Melena never really worked for me.

Every chapter begins with a time stamp. Years are measured from when the Wizard took power, which is (conveniently) the year that Elphaba was born (Year 0). This would otherwise have been Year 1678 of the Ozma reign (or "Before Wizard" as opposed to "After Wizard") – this is completely arbitrary and has no basis in either canon.

(Originally the time stamps were absolutely necessary as I was planning to have each chapter jump around in time, telling the story in random snapshots. That didn't work out, so now there are only two non-linear scenes, but sometimes there are rather big jumps between chapters, so they just keep things clear. If nothing else, it makes Elphaba's age easy to remember.)

Many thanks to all my beta readers, particularly Anna Fay and Kaylle. They are amazing. Between them they've put up with me fretting over two totally different stories at once and indulged me in about a hundred hours of gmail chat to thrash out characterisations. There is no way to thank these ladies enough, so please applaud them, because otherwise we'd have trailed off somewhere around chapter six.

Revised and reposted April 2012.

* * *

**The Grand Vizier of Oz  
**by Sedri

Chapter One  
_The Reporter_

Year 25  
Spring

"Excuse me, coming through, coming through... Excuse– ex_cuse_ me! That _hurt_! Watch where you're–"

The offending foot-stepper heard nothing of this complaint, worming his way through the crowd in the vain hope of getting just a little bit closer to the Grand Balcony. Nera Verstwit, reporter for _The Glow_, leaned on the shoulder of some random person as she tried to rub her bruised toes without dropping her precious camera.

It was a sunny day in the Emerald City, and that didn't much help her mood. The city was so bright and clean that it was almost painful in this light, and Nera had to squint if she looked at anything but the ever-moving sea of green fabric in front of her. Muttering rudely, cursing herself for losing her tinted glasses, she wriggled back into her shoe and took hold of a lamp post, trying to climb it.

Most of the city had turned out for this announcement and it was heavily rumoured that the Wizard himself would be making an appearance. Gossip from the palace staff – printed, of course, in every low-class tabloid Nera could get her hands on – claimed that Lady Glinda had been ecstatically happy these last few days (more so than usual, that is), that she had involved all of her few close friends in some sort of preparations and – most tellingly – that her favourite seamstress had ordered several bolts of white lace and silk. Needless to say, even Nera's own magazine had been printing every picture they had of Lady Glinda and that Winkie prince, and Nera herself was quietly sure she already knew everything that was going to be said, save for why the Great Oz would trouble himself with a public appearance – after all, there were more important things to think about than the engagement of his beautiful apprentice.

It was no secret that the Wizard looked on Lady Glinda like a daughter, and a marriage to Vinkun royalty would certainly have political ramifications, but really, why bother? The Great Oz was extremely busy, dealing with all these Animal issues, and though it wasn't widely spoken of, Nera thought it must be very tiring for him to change from his normal, imposing form into a human all the time.

Suddenly there was a soft cry from those lucky (and probably very pushy) people who had managed to get to the front, and applause broke out across the square as a figure appeared on the Grand Balcony. Slim, soft and lovely, it had to be Lady Glinda. She smiled, lifting a hand to wave and eliciting a thunderous applause. Even Nera smiled; no one could help but like Glinda.

Two other people were coming out with her. More subdued in their dress, neither sparkled as Glinda did, and it took a brief moment – filled with the sound of her snapping camera – for Nera to be sure she recognised them. One was Fiyero Tiggular, of course, as unfairly handsome as ever in his casual blue vest, and the other...

It was _her_.

The Green Lady, the Grand Vizier of Oz. Lady Elphaba.

Nera might have been less surprised if it _was_ the Wizard. Except for her introductory presentation to Ozian society, Lady Elphaba never bothered with public appearances unless it was about one of her new laws concerning Animal Rights – which, Nera was sure, this was not. Her sources in the cabinet (four cleaning maids and a bribeable assistant) hadn't reported anything unusual, and even that one time when the Vizier had surprised everyone with her Equality Employment Act, there had still been whispers of late-night file checking and hushed conversations. This time, nothing.

Lady Elphaba – or the 'Green Lady', as she had been so appropriately nicknamed – was standing quietly beside the others, wearing one of her usual in dark green dresses, with a matching pointed hat that added height and prestige. She seemed less solemn than usual, Nera thought, but then again, who was she to say, hanging from a lamp post a good thirty feet away?

Lady Glinda kept waving and smiling, but seemed to be waiting for something. The prince kept glancing between the dark doorway and the Green Lady, and for a brief moment Nera swore he touched her hand – or said something, maybe. Whatever it was, Lady Elphaba suddenly smiled, and Nera was quick to capture the image – _snap, snap, snap_.

"Don't know what _she_ thinks she's doing up there," muttered a nearby Ozian. "Too good to see us the rest of the time, isn't she?"

"Oh hush," said his wife. "I think she's shy. And anyway, what's wrong with not talking unless there's something important to say? Oz knows you do it often enough."

"She wants to seem mysterious," chimed in an older woman, a mint-frosted cupcake with the air of one who was generously willing to share her wisdom with the next generation. "It's a common trick with young leaders – those girls aren't a day over twenty-five. How else could she expect to command your respect?"

"Lady Glinda doesn't have that problem," argued the husband, briefly softening as he gazed at the sorceress.

"Lady Glinda isn't _green_," snapped the wife. "And anyway, it's all a lie. I've seen the tabloids – they're not nearly as grown-up as they'd like us to think."

Nera, still keeping her eye on the balcony, smirked. The Wizard's star pupils weren't grown-up at all – her peers had caught endless snaps of the pair laughing and chatting as they shopped or dined in town, usually with their escort prince. She'd taken such pictures herself, and was particularly proud of the time she'd caught a snap of Lady Elphaba with strawberry ice cream spilled into the lap of her skirt. _That_ had made _The Glow_'s front page, and proved to the world that the Green Lady was nowhere near as mature and sophisticated as she wanted people to think.

But she _was_ intimidating. On the day of the ice cream incident, Nera had taken three snaps and _run_, secretly terrified that the powerful sorceress would turn her into a newt or something. Oh, everyone knew that she did good for the people of Oz, but no one could ever really get over that skin. Green, really – could fate have picked anything more ironic? And those eyes! Such intensity, such expression! Even through the time delays of developed photographs, Nera felt a chill whenever that stare fixed on her; it always made her feel like a scolded schoolgirl.

She wasn't the only one. Up on the balcony (where there was _obviously_ some sort of delay), Lady Glinda was entertaining reporters by explaining her newest fashion statement – one-sleeve coats – and Prince Fiyero had been asked a few polite questions, but no one approached the dark, green lady.

Then, a cry – delight, awe, sheer shock. Heavily ornamented soldiers in stiff uniforms and tall hats marched through the doors, striding in perfect sync and pivoting neatly on their heels before striking their heavy staffs against the ground. A gong sounded. Lady Glinda stepped back, as did the Green Lady and the prince, making room for–

The Wizard.

Nera _squealed_, snapping pictures as fast as she could with trembling fingers, trying to keep it above the flailing hands, gloved in green, that waved frantically at their leader. The _Wizard!_ The Great Oz himself! Oh, Nera had _never_ seen him – not personally, anyway. She'd spent a week refusing to speak to a co-worker who had been that lucky, and now her Ozian pride was bubbling through her veins like a drug. She was seeing _the Wizard_!

He had taken human form again – no one had ever managed to capture an image of his natural state, and it was rumoured to be magically impossible – and was thoughtful enough to appear as a kind, elderly gentleman, the sort that reminded Nera of her story-telling grandfather. He smiled and waved, and Nera had to hold on for dear life as the crowd surged, screaming joy and praise.

It seemed to go on forever – the sheer energy of the people was enormous. A small, sarcastic part of Nera's mind wondered if the Wizard avoided public appearances just to escape the noise-induced headache. Then she scolded herself – how could the Great Oz get _headaches_?

Suddenly, a funny thing happened, so fast that Nera almost missed it, and certainly didn't have time to ready her camera: Lady Elphaba coughed. Not a natural, sorry-I'm-a-little-ill cough, but the sort of irritated cough one makes when annoyed or impatient, and the Wizard, standing beside her, was briefly startled (was that _possible_?). He glanced at her – she was frowning – and lowered his waving hand, gesturing for Lady Glinda to take the podium.

It was possibly the first time in history that anyone had been disappointed to hear Glinda speak.

"Fellow Ozians," she said brightly, "I am delighted to be the bearer of happy news – yes!" she said, lifting a finger as excited chatter filled the square. "Possibly the happiest news that anyone can deliver, news to which our beloved leader–"

Here she had to stop as cheers erupted again, and nearly thirty seconds passed before her gestures for silence were heeded.

"–our _beloved_ leader has given his personal consent and blessing. Friends!" she declared, raising her arms in an open gesture of welcome. "One month from today we will join together to celebrate a day of happiness. One month from today, _we will celebrate_..."

Nera readied her camera. This was going to be _good_.


	2. In The Throne Room

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Two  
_In The Throne Room_

Year 19  
Spring

They were in _pain_.

It was all she could hear, all she could think about – the screaming, screeching, crashing, _crying_ monkeys who rushed around madly trying to escape their new wings or huddled pitifully together in the cage, whimpering. Elphaba watched, helpless, barely hearing the voices around her.

"The world is your oyster now. You have so many opportunities ahead of you – you both do!"

It was so faint, so far away, and Glinda's reply was even further. Elphaba didn't care; her mind was filled with shock and guilt and anger and the lies, lies, _lies_. It was wrong and he was _wrong_ and she was wrong to stand there doing _nothing_ and the shrieks echoed in her skull and she clenched the book and shook her head and felt such a _rage_ build up and–

"_NO!_"

–ran.

The door was close, so close, but Morrible was closer. She shot out with claw-like hands to grab her student – or perhaps the Grimmerie – and snared one wrist. Elphaba's anger boiled and she spun, not even thinking as she flung out an arm and cast off her captor with magical force equal to that of a small bomb. Morrible _flew_, hurtling through the air in a swirl of lime silk and Elphaba saw, in a frozen moment of perfect clarity, the look of shock on her white-painted face.

Then–

_CRASH._

–time caught up with them all. Elphaba blinked.

Glinda _screamed_.

Shards of glass and metal were everywhere, still tinkling as they hit the ground. The mechanical head was in ruins, torn clean away from the wall. Its thin shell had splintered and jagged metal spikes were poking out in all directions. The jaw had separated, the cheek had buckled, one eye had collapsed, and in the midst of it all lay Madame Morrible, glassy-eyed and bleeding.

The impact had broken her neck.

Elphaba gasped and backed away, horrified. She hit a wall and stopped, nails digging so hard into the Grimmerie that she nearly tore the leather. _No, no, no_, she thought, sinking to the floor with a violent shudder._ No, this can't be happening_...

But it _was_ happening. The Wizard, showing more calm competence than she might have expected, quickly made his way to the wreckage, crouching beside Morrible while Glinda scurried over to her friend. She dropped to her knees and hugged Elphaba, who blindly reached for one white hand and gripped it like a lifeline. "It's okay, Elphie," Glinda chanted frantically, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay..."

Elphaba shook her head. It was _not_ okay, not unless she was mad, or dreaming. It wasn't okay unless the Wizard could look up and say–

"I'm sorry, girls. She's gone."

With a soft cry, Elphaba tore her eyes away from the corpse, burying a pale face in Glinda's shoulder and trying not to be sick. "I killed her," she breathed. "Glinda, I _killed_ her..."

Shaking, Glinda just clung tighter and forced them both to look away.

By this time the guards posted outside had begun to pound on it and shout – was all well? Was the Great Oz in need? – and the Wizard hurried over to unlock the door. The men beyond sagged with relief, then straightened up and saluted.

"Send for the undertaker," the Wizard told them, sounding tired. "Madame Morrible is dead."

Behind him, curled up on the floor, the girls could barely hear his words, and Elphaba, watching through the gap between Glinda's chin and neck, suddenly stiffened as she realised something. "Glinda," she whispered urgently, "he can arrest me for murder."

The blonde girl jerked away. "What?"

"You too, maybe," said Elphaba. "We know too much, and it's the perfect excuse–" she flinched "–perfect _reason_. If he locks us up he can be sure that we'll _never_–"

"Elphie, _no_, don't talk like that!" cried Glinda, shaking her. "It'll be all right – you didn't mean to – we'll _fix_ this," she said desperately. "We'll fix it, somehow, we'll..."

But whatever Glinda might have thought to do, or whatever escape Elphaba might have planned, nothing ever came of it, for at that moment the Wizard walked over with one soldier, gesturing to the ruined head and the dead sorceress. "... a _terrible_ accident – terrible," he was saying. "And for those poor girls to witness it... I warned the Madame that this spell was too much for her, but she _so_ wanted to treat her students to something special, and, well..."

Elphaba looked up in disbelief. Then the old man added a long, melodramatically sad sigh and her eyes narrowed in suspicion – what was he _doing_?

The guard, the same red-bearded fellow who had led them in, let his gaze linger on the huddled schoolgirls for only a moment. It never occurred to him to suspect them, despite the fact that Elphaba was holding the Grimmerie; he didn't recognise it. Besides, the Great Oz – human though he might appear – had _said_ it was an accident, so he simply bowed and asked about 'arrangements'.

"She'll have a state funeral, of course," said the Wizard, making his way to the bewildered girls, "with all pomp and pageantry, as soon as possible. Now, my good man, if you will see to things here, I think I'll take our guests to a sitting room for a nice cup of hot chocolate."

He was met with one look of surprise and another of profound scepticism. "I'm sure this was a _terrible_ shock for you girls, but if you'll just come with me..."

They stayed put, glancing warily at each other. At last he said, "Unless you'd prefer to stay out here with my men."

If it was a threat, it was very well concealed – he sounded honestly concerned. With no other option anyway, they stood and followed him, Elphaba somewhat shakily. The soldier, whose backup was solemnly arriving through the main door, paid no heed to either of them as the Wizard gently guided them to a small door behind the curtains, which in turn led to a cosy little parlour with a fireplace and several soft chairs. Only because she was still so rattled by the bloody death of Morrible did Elphaba allow Glinda to sit her down on a couch and wait for the Wizard to speak.

He seemed to be in no hurry. Clearing some books and papers from a low table, he fussed about in the corner for a moment before returning with a china teapot and several cups. The pot was full of hot milk, and as he poured it out and measured the little flakes of chocolate, Glinda sat down beside her friend, hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"I-is this where you live?" she asked suddenly. Her voice trembled badly, and the Wizard, with a soothing smile, handed her the first drink.

"Yes," he said kindly, "just a small corner of the palace that no one really misses. Ironic, isn't it? Only a few housekeepers and my personal guard know that I need to eat and sleep like any other man," he chuckled, then gestured to the haphazard stacks of paperwork. "Sorry for the mess. As you might imagine, I _never_ have visitors."

Fidgeting, Glinda gave a little shrug and sipped the chocolate. Elphaba said nothing, just watched the exchange with the Grimmerie hugged to her chest. As she regained her composure, her eyes narrowed in calculation, and silence reigned again until the Wizard finished making a second cup and offered it to his green guest. Shooting him a glare, she ignored it. "What did you mean by telling them it was an accident?"

The Wizard blinked, confused. "It... _was_ an accident, wasn't it? Surely you didn't mean to–"

"Of course not," snapped Elphaba, "but no one will believe my word over yours, so why did you do it? Blackmail? If I don't help you, you'll have me arrested, is that it?"

"No!" He actually seemed offended, and set the cup down with a clatter. "Of course not, Elphaba. I want you to help me because you _want_ to. I want you to be happy."

"Well I'm _not_ happy and I _don't_ want to," she declared, shifting on the edge of her seat and putting the book aside. "I don't want anything to do with this. I won't help you continue whatever it is you're doing to the Animals."

The Wizard sighed, shaking his head with an expression that reminded Glinda of her parents whenever they indulged her sillier whims. "Elphaba," he said, leaning forward in his chair, "I want to _help_ the citizens of Oz–"

"By _imprisoning_ them?"

"The Animals–"

She shot to her feet. "–_ARE_ citizens!"

Glinda tugged on her black sleeve and urged her to sit. "Calm down, Elphie, please," she said, glancing quickly at the irritated Wizard. "This isn't helping. Maybe you could... I don't know, find some sort of compromi–"

"_No_," snapped Elphaba, frustrated, and tore away from her friend to pace the room, boots thumping heavily on the floor. "I won't help him, not _ever_ – not unless he completely changes the way he treats Animals."

The Wizard sighed. "I realise all this must be very upsetting for you–"

"You _think_?"

"–particularly with a sudden death on your conscience."

She stiffened, clenching her hands to keep them from trembling. The Wizard saw this; he wasn't stupid. Patiently, he said, "Come and sit down, Elphaba. Let's talk. Here, have a drink. Chocolate? Or something stronger, maybe, to soothe your nerves?" He pulled a small bottle from his pocket.

"No. Thank you." She didn't even look at him, just kept pacing and glaring at the walls. "I want to know what happens next."

"That's up to you," he replied, pausing to swallow a sip of his drink. "I want to believe I can trust you girls, and if we can–"

"_Elphie_!" gasped Glinda. "Elphie, the _bottle_!"

Startled, Elphaba spun around. Glinda was half out of her seat, pointing one white arm straight at the Wizard, who had frozen mid-sip in surprise. In two strides, Elphaba was back by his side and she snatched the green bottle from his fingers. "Where did you get this?" she demanded. "_Where did you get this?_"

"I – well, I've had them for _years_," he stammered. "Bought them from my cousin back in–"

"'Them'? There's more?"

"Only three – two, now, and– What are you doing?"

Elphaba had opened the lid and was tentatively sniffing the mixture. Glinda, now standing, moved to her side and asked, "Is it... the same?"

"Stronger, I think," said Elphaba, "but that could be because there's more of it." She returned her gaze to the baffled Wizard, who was now rising to his feet, hand extended toward his bottle. Elphaba kept a tight hold. "What is it?"

He shrugged. "Green elixir. I only ever made one batch – didn't bother to name it."

"Does anyone else know how to make it?"

The Wizard looked between his guests, eyebrows knitted tight and racing to catch up with the conversation. "No," he said. "Why do you–?"

"What's in it?"

He fixed her with a chiding expression and sat back down in his chair. "First you tell me why this is so important to you."

"No, I have to–"

"I can be stubborn too, dear girl. Sit down."

Glinda touched her shoulder, murmuring something about being reasonable, and they returned to their places on the couch. Elphaba's hands stayed wrapped around the bottle, fingers resting in the same spiralling grooves that they always did, only the chinks and rough patches were different. For a long moment she was silent, her need for privacy wrestling with desperate curiosity. Privacy lost. "My mother had a little green bottle just like this. She never told anyone what it was, or where she got it. She gave it to me. I thought it was the only one in the world."

The Wizard's brow furrowed. "Your _mother_?" he repeated, confused. "How could your mo–?" Something akin to guilt flashed across his face. "Melena Thropp," he said. "Your mother is Melena Thropp."

"Was," replied Elphaba. "She died a long time ago."

Regret crossed his face now, far more sincere than that which he had shown for Morrible. "I'm sorry. She was... so beautiful."

Elphaba looked puzzled. "You knew her?"

"I gave her one of my bottles, as you've probably guessed," he replied. "Before the last Ozma died, I was travelling around Munchkinland and... ran into her." He spoke offhandedly, as though his real thoughts were elsewhere – and they clearly were, for suddenly he asked, with great intensity, "How _old_ are you, Elphaba?"

"What? None of your business."

Glinda squeezed her hand and nudged her. Grudgingly, she said, "Nineteen."

"And your birthday is when, exactly?"

She told him.

There was a moment's silence, a frozen second in which the Wizard's blue eyes glittered in the lamplight. Then his cheek twitched, a huge smile broke out, and suddenly he jumped out of his seat. His hands caught Elphaba's and he pulled her up, wrapping her in a hug before she could even _think_ to stop him. She stood stiff as a board and Glinda stared open-mouthed while the Wizard cried, "Oh, _Lord_, thank you!"

Elphaba jerked back, repulsed, but the Wizard didn't seem to care. He was practically dancing as he studied her face like he'd never seen it before, biting his lower lip in excitement. Then he cried, "Ah! It's the eyes – you have Melena's eyes! And her cheeks and lips– oh, but that's my jaw, and the nose, it's... Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane! _Ha_!"

The girls stared at him as though he were a lunatic. He probably was. Snatching up a pile of loose papers, he tore messily through them before triumphantly snatching up a photograph which he held out to the girls. It was a colour picture of himself, many years younger, at what seemed to be the Ozma Regent's Lurlinemas speech. Glinda and Elphaba looked at it, puzzled, and the Wizard cried, "The hair, Elphaba – look at my hair!"

"...It's black," she said flatly.

"Yes, black! It's the same shade, don't you _see_?"

Exchanging a glance with Glinda, Elphaba pushed the photo back into his hands. "_No_," she said warily, "I _don't_ see. What are you on about?"

He reached out and lifted the ends of her own dark locks. "You have my hair! And my jaw, and you're _Melena_'s daughter, and you're _just_ the right age..." He trailed off, expecting it to be obvious.

Now, Elphaba Thropp was not stupid. She understood how the world worked even if she'd never been allowed to be part of it; she knew what strong liquor could do to people and she knew what her mother had been rumoured to act like. She knew she was different, that people had always commented on how she resembled Melena, never Frex, and she was quick enough to make the connection between the Wizard's apparently random string of exclamations.

She was also angry, afraid, hurt, disgusted, and deeply shaken by Morrible's death. "How _dare_ you?" she spat.

The Wizard jerked back as though burned. Glinda glanced between them, confused. "Elphie, what–?"

"He thinks he's my _father_," her friend replied. "He drugged my mother with this – this _stuff_ that probably turned me green and–"

"Now just a moment!" he defended. "I didn't _drug_ anyone. Your mother knew exactly how potent my elixir was–"

"She'd had it _before_?"

"Several times. We emptied the bottle together."

Elphaba tore away again, stalking around to the back of the couch, keeping it between herself and the Wizard. "What's in it?" she demanded. "Why did it make me green?"

He looked pained. "I really don't know," he confessed. "I was experimenting with potions and spirits. I had nothing else to do, and this one... well, it has a pleasant buzz. Dulls pain, too."

Her glare was icy. "You didn't even keep track of what went in it?"

"Er... no."

She whirled away, apparently furious, but Glinda caught a brief look in her eyes – devastation. Without the precise recipe for such a magical potion, there would be no way to reverse its effects, ever. Circling the couch, she took the hand of her forever-green friend and squeezed.

Elphaba nodded silently, grateful for the support. Her eyes were shut tight and her jaw clenched several times before she was able to swallow her anger – and tears – enough to compose herself again. She turned around.

"This doesn't prove anything," she said evenly, throwing him the bottle that perfectly matched her skin. "All it means is that it's _your_ fault I'm green."

"I'm sorry about that," he said, sounding sincere. "I didn't know. I would never have done it to you on purpose."

Small consolation. Elphaba snorted and said nothing, folding her arms and looking away. Glinda, however, was thinking – hard. Her brow was furrowed, and she tapped a pretty nail on her lips.

"...Elphie?" she said softly, after a moment. "Elphie, I know you don't want to hear this, but don't you think... well, if he _is_ your–"

"He's _not_."

"But if he _was_," persisted Glinda, "wouldn't that explain your powers?"

The others blinked at her. "What?"

"Your powers. They're special. No other sorcerer in history has had talent like yours, so I thought, maybe... I mean, he's from another _world_, Elphie. Even if he doesn't have his own magic, maybe with mixed blood... It's never _happened_ before."

The Wizard looked gleeful, clapping his hands together and beaming at her, but Elphaba frowned as she thought it through, jaw tightening as she failed to find any flaws. At last she asked, "How can you be sure? That no one else has had talent like me, I mean?"

"I've watched you in class, Elphie, and I did a _lot_ of reading for my entrance essay. I'm sure. Madame Morrible said so, too, remem–?" she flinched. Elphaba's lips pressed tight and she paled again. "Sorry."

Elphaba just shook her head and clasped her friend's hand, but Glinda, seeing her tremble under the strain, patted her arm and said, "Maybe we should get some rest. Hmm? Go back to the hotel and... well, we can come back tomorrow, can't we?" she asked the Wizard.

"Of course you–"

"No. We're going back to Shiz," declared Elphaba, picking up the Grimmerie. "We're leaving right _now_."

"What–?"

"Elphie–"

"–No!"

The Wizard scrambled across the room and blocked their way to the door. "Please, Elphaba, don't go. There's so much I want to... Please, I can give you what you want–"

"You have no _idea_ what I–"

"I'll make you Grand Vizier!"

"_Move_!"

"Stay here, please – I'm your father, I–"

"I _hate_ you!"

"You're my _daughter_, I'd do _anything_–!"

She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. One eyebrow lifted. "...Anything?"

The Wizard locked eyes with her, silent just long enough to make it clear that he understood the implications of his reply. He nodded. "Anything."

For a moment she was still, watching him like a predator. The air around them had changed, the balance of power shifted. In the last few seconds, with his last word, the Wizard had given Elphaba absolute authority.

She used it. "You're going to give the Animals their rights back," she declared. "All of them. You're going to restore the lives and livelihood of everyone who has suffered in your attempt to 'bring us together' – starting with Doctor Dillamond. I want him teaching class _tomorrow_. And every other Animal professor that used to work at Shiz – I want them back."

With each word, he deflated a little, and at these last ones he winced. "Elphaba, that might not be possible," he said reasonably. "Some are no longer _capable_–"

"You'll do everything in your power to _make_ them capable," she replied, voice dangerously soft. "You're going to take everything you know about how to stop Animals from talking and reverse it. I don't care what it takes. Make this 'mysterious affliction' out to be your new enemy if you have to – just do it."

"Yes, I will, I _swear_, but Elphaba, this will take time – you must understand," he pleaded. "Change doesn't happen overnight."

Her anger drained a little. "I know," she said, "it will take a lot of work. So if you really mean what you say..." she paused, just for a moment, "...then I'll accept your offer to be vizier."

"_Wonderful!_" he cried, she had to step back to avoid another hug. He clapped anyway, looking much too cheerful for a man whose entire political agenda had just been turned on its ear. "Oh, Elphaba, I can't _tell_ you how happy this makes me! You're going to love it here, I'm sure – you'll have the best room in the palace and–"

"_No_," said Elphaba tightly. "I'm going back to Shiz. I'm going to finish my degree and _if_ you've kept your promise by the time I graduate, then I'll come back."

He was crushed. "Elphaba..."

"All you've given me are words – I want proof. I'm not going to join you until there are laws that I want to enforce. And I won't support lies, either. Don't you _dare_ rebuild that stupid head. Find some excuse and start letting people see that you're human."

If nothing else could be said for the Wizard's virtues, he was – at least with her – honest. "I don't know if I can do that," he said carefully. "In all these years, only a dozen people have met me in person. I don't know what will happen if I reveal myself now. We can get nothing done if I lose power."

"Um... If I may?" said Glinda. "Sir, I-I think Elphie's right. I mean, we were so excited just to know we'd _see_ you–" (Elphaba scowled) "–and everyone in Oz already believes in you, but they're terrified, too. I know it's not the same as being – well, _popular_ – but if they could meet you, and you were more... approachable..." she hesitated, feeling way out of her depth – who was _she_ to lecture _him_? – but she couldn't stop now; they were waiting. "...No one would respect you less, I think, and seeing you, even just once or twice a year, would be really... encouraging."

The Wizard was nodding slowly, considering this, and gave her a warm smile. "Miss Glinda," he said, "I think you might just have a future in public relations."

Glinda stifled a little gasp, but Elphaba quelled her excitement by coldly pointing out, "He said 'might'."

"Oh, Elphie, don't be such a pessimist."

The Wizard gave her a chiding look. "I mean it, Elphaba. Your friend seems to have all the qualities we'd need in a press secretary."

"There is no 'we' yet," she reminded him. "Glinda and I are going back to Shiz and you have two years to make good on your word. Until then nothing's decided, so don't talk about this to anyone – and you are _never_ to say anything about my mother," she added fiercely. "That's a secret we are _not_ sharing."

His shoulders slumped a little. "Well... I can live with that," he said.

"Good. The last thing I need is my father knowing about any of this. He _loved_ her," she added, unwillingly softer. "It would break his heart to know she had an affair, and Nessa... Nessa would be devastated."

Wisely, the Wizard did not ask who Nessa was – that's what profiles were for, after all, and Elphaba's was sitting on his desk in the next room, prepared by Morrible and filled with several names he couldn't quite remember. 'Nessa' would be one of them. "Mum's the word," he promised. "So, er... anything else I can do for you?" he asked hopefully. "Any bills you want me to settle, or a dress you've always–?"

"Restore Animal rights."

It was very mature of Glinda to say nothing about being denied a shopping trip. In fact, she didn't even think about it – she was more concerned with her friend's increasingly cold attitude. "_Thank_ you, Your Ozness," she said, looking pointedly at Elphaba. "This is more than we could have ever hoped for."

"My name is Oscar," the Wizard told her with a little bow. "Oscar Diggs. Please use it."

Glinda smiled and shook his hand, as if their first fouled-up meeting had never occurred. Elphaba packed the Grimmerie into her satchel. "We'll miss the train, Glinda."

"Elphie–"

"Or would you rather we leave your things at the hotel?" Without a glance at Oscar, she wrenched open the door and stalked out. The old man watched her go with a naked look of longing sadness, and Glinda's heart went out to him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "Elphie... she's hurt, and angry, and... she doesn't mean it."

Oscar manufactured a smile. "It's all right," he said. "She has every right to be upset." Then he patted Glinda's hand. "You should hurry, Miss Glinda. If my daughter is anything like me... Well," he shrugged, "run along."

Glinda nodded, but hesitated. Then she did something she never even dreamed of doing – she hugged the Wizard of Oz.

Oscar smiled and returned it, finding the gesture sweet. "Thank you, dear. Now, hurry."

With a nod she did so, picking her way through the broken throne room, and Oscar Diggs was left alone, again.


	3. The Need For Friends

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Author's notes: Dillamond's initials (I. M.) are on the cover of the prop book that can be seen in the "Behind the Emerald Curtain" tour, but I made up the actual names.

* * *

Chapter Three  
_The Need For Friends_

Year 19  
Spring

At Shiz University, when it was close to midnight and most students had gone into town for a fun night at the pubs, Fiyero Tiggular sat alone in his dormitory, feet propped up on the headboard, reading.

Yes, _reading_. It was unintentional and almost embarrassing, but he was reading, and honestly enjoying it.

He'd been trudging through the library in search of a text assigned by their new history professor – _Animal Education: An Unnecessary Luxury?_ which he was sure would outrage Elphaba by title alone – and literally stumbled across it. Someone hadn't restacked the shelves very neatly, and a few volumes were poking out from their floor-level home just as his foot came around the corner. He hadn't actually fallen – dancers did tend to have a certain grace, after all – but he had needed to grab hold of something to keep his balance, and that something just happened to be a book.

A fairly slim, comfortable-looking book entitled _Early Ozian History_,by Dr I M Dillamond.

His first thought, which he really should not admit aloud, was, _Elphaba would love this._

He had no way of knowing, of course, that this was the previous class text which had only just been removed from their reading list, nor did he know that, if he looked, he would find an identical copy at the bottom of his trunk, along with everything else the family servants had bought and packed for him.

For a school textbook, it was oddly interesting. He'd only flipped through it for a moment, skimming the chapter headings in search of something impressive to know, but a few words had caught his eye, and there were a couple of phrases he didn't understand, and suddenly he'd found himself annoyingly, but rather hopelessly hooked. Doctor Dillamond wrote in a very clear, direct manner that made his prose easy to follow, barely restraining a heartfelt passion that made him sound like an older, less commotion-prone version of Elphaba.

Elphaba.

"_Elphaba_!"

Fiyero blinked. The voice was faint, but it couldn't be... Glinda? He peered out the window, grateful for the calm, balmy night that had made him leave it open in the first place. They weren't expected back from the city for at least another day, but there was a carriage outside the girls' dorm, and a coachman was lifting down some cases for the pair of figures who waited impatiently by the door.

"Elphie, what _is_ it?" came Glinda's voice, floating plaintively on the breeze. "I don't understand why you–"

Slamming doors obscured any reply. The hired coachman took off, horses trotting ahead of the taxi, and Fiyero watched as a small shape that had to be Glinda snatched up a ridiculous number of bags and stumbled through the still-swinging main door. Elphaba was already inside.

For a moment, Fiyero hesitated, then put down his book and closed the window.

* * *

The world was going by without her.

Elphaba sat on the floor of the dorm room, knees drawn up to her chest and eyes staring blankly at the little green bottle that hung in her hands. She couldn't speak – didn't _want_ to speak, and simply _couldn't_. She knew it was driving Glinda crazy, but that knowledge was distant, as though she'd have to open the window just to see it, and she couldn't bring herself to care. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elphaba knew that she _should_ care, should do anything in her power to avoid driving off her one and only friend, but she _couldn't_.

Her body wouldn't respond to commands even if she had found the energy to give them.

The bottle was green. That was all she could think of. Green, green, green. A pretty green, not quite emerald, not quite jade, but soft and translucent, dark at its base and neck, with a few sticky drops of old liquid wedged firmly in the grooves. Everything about it was green.

For Elphaba, it was easier to observe the colour, dully noting the perfect match to her long, thin hands, than to ponder the implications of it. It was easier to examine the tiny chinks and imperfections in the glass than to remember Madame Morrible, or the screaming Monkeys, or that _person_ who lied to them all yet claimed to be– _wanted_ to be, and by all rights _had_ to be–

_No_.

The bottle was green, and she could see the carpet through it.

Glinda's yellow heels had been kicked off in one corner and she moved barefoot across the room, her painted toes flickering oddly through twisted glass. Faintly, Elphaba heard voices at the door, a deeper sound following Glinda's worried tone, and her ears tried to relay the fact that Glinda was saying, "I don't know what's _wrong_! She was fine the whole way home and _suddenly_..."

It was hardly sudden.

The train ride had been soothing, once they were aboard, and Glinda had spent most of her time digging through all the neon green bags they had collected during their one perfect, happy day, searching for some trinket that might distract her friend. Elphaba had curled up in her seat and slept, the gentle rocking soothing her in a way that no thoughts could. She dreamed that her mother was standing in a giant bottle, reaching out to hug her as though she were a normal child. Then there was a stabbing, painful wrench as Melena turned into Morrible, the soft hands into claws, the loving smile into a glassy grin of death. Then suddenly it was the Wizard, holding her tight, blood pooling in his hands, blood just like hers, leathery wings flapping in her face and Monkeys screaming as Diggs _smiled_ and–

She'd woken up, panting.

Glinda, so perfectly gentle and innocent, had asked if it had been about her father.

Elphaba turned away wordlessly, knowing that that liar was _not_ her father and _couldn't_ be her father because _Frexspar Thropp_ was her father and one little bottle didn't prove _anything_.

That had been her chant ever since, as they stumbled toward a hired carriage, into the dorm and towards the bed where her _mother's_ bottle lay peacefully under a pillow. Identical, she knew, to the one she'd held before. _It doesn't prove anything_, Elphaba told herself. _It doesn't prove anything, it doesn't prove anything, it doesn't prove ANYTHING._

But really, it did, and in her gut she had a sinking feeling that no matter what happened now, she was completely and utterly trapped.

There was movement around her now; warmth. Glinda was back by her side, a slim gold form just visible through the curtain of black hair. Someone else was with them, sitting close on her other side, and it was only when a large hand rested gently on her back, palm warm between her shoulder blades, did she realise it was Fiyero. She stiffened habitually, a trace of embarrassment making its way out of that firmly-shuttered corner of her heart, but all he did was run his fingers gently over her spine, rubbing circles through the black fabric of her dress, and after a moment she softened, soothed.

He was saying something. "Elphaba? ...Elphaba, can you _hear_ me?"

She shifted slightly, a small turn of the head that allowed him to meet her eyes if he leaned over far enough. He was sitting on the floor, just as they were, their backs against the bed frame, and she dimly noted that he looked concerned.

"What happened, Elphaba?" he asked. "Did... Did the Wizard refuse to apprentice you?"

She _laughed_. A strained, mirthless, near-hysterical cackle that no one knew she was capable of. It ripped through her like an earthquake, and left behind a body so tired and frail that she began to tremble, to shake violently, and suddenly four hands were touching her arms and shoulders, brushing back her hair and asking unintelligible questions.

Someone pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders; Glinda. Over her head, Fiyero was asking, "What _happened_ out there, Glinda? I didn't even know you were going with her."

"Well, I... just wanted to get away for a while." A sharp nudge on her shoulder. "Elphie? Can I tell him?"

It took too much effort to shrug. Some sound came out of her throat, a garbled choke, utterly disconnected from the eyes that stared again at her green bottle, and Glinda sighed irritably. After a moment, she began to speak.

Elphaba didn't need to hear the words; she saw it all again, as clearly as though she were still there – the brilliant city, the frightening lights, the lying little man and the beautiful old book. The stately teacher, a swirl of lime green silk, and the spreading stain of red that soaked it from the inside out. She shuddered, clenching the bottle as she squeezed her eyes shut, and Fiyero's palm rubbed a little harder, his thumb running lines across the sharp angle of her shoulder blade.

Glinda's hands appeared before her and took the fragile bottle away. For a moment she did nothing, limply letting it go, but then her hands closed around empty air and she blinked as though woken, then looked up at Glinda. "Give it back," she said.

"Talk to us, Elphie," Glinda insisted. "Tell us what's really wrong."

Elphaba's eyes closed and she looked away, but the movement was enough to rouse the muscles in her neck and spine, and she began to feel her body again. She noticed the itchy carpet and the faint smell of cologne, and that the desk lamp was awfully bright. She breathed deeply, almost sighing, and her lungs said hello to her ribcage. She blinked and suddenly she was in the room with them, and there was a question to answer.

Fiyero's hand was on her back, comfortably warm. She liked it.

"I hoped I was wrong," she admitted quietly. "I hoped it would be different, that there was some sort of mistake."

Glinda's nails clinked against the bottle as she said, "You hoped he wasn't really your father."

A rush of anger. "He's _not_."

"Elphie–"

"He's _not_!" she shouted, defiance boiling through her veins. "I want _nothing_ to do with him!"

"That's not _fair_, Elphie," snapped Glinda. "You can't keep saying that! If you really believe it's not true, fine, but you can't say it _and_ make all those demands at the same time. You'd just be taking advantage of an old man's loneliness."

She opened her mouth to speak, to say that he wasn't _just_ a man but a selfish liar and a cheat, but Fiyero's warm hand moved to her shoulder and held her back, and he quickly asked, "What demands?"

Glinda kept her eyes fixed on Elphaba. "The Wizard–"

"Don't _call_ him that."

"–_Mister Diggs_–" she amended "–promised to take back the Animal bans and speak out against all this prejudice. He's going to turn everything around, for her, just because she's his daughter. Because she asked him to."

Fiyero glanced between them, confused. "But... isn't that a good thing?"

"_Good_?" snarled Elphaba, whirling on him. "How can it be _good_ for all of Oz to follow a man whose morals change at the drop of a hat?"

He shifted awkwardly, pinned by her glare. "Well, it's not, but–"

"But _what_?"

"But he's still doing the right thing," said Fiyero. "That is what you want, right?"

"What I _want_ is for him to really be what he pretends to," said Elphaba. "I want him to be

a _wizard_, to be _wonderful_, I want–" her voice caught in her throat. She shuddered. "I want..." She sniffed, her breathing roughened, and at last she spat out, "I want him to be what we _believed_ he was."

Glinda brushed back her hair and offered a handkerchief. They waited.

Elphaba drew shuddering breaths as she fiddled with the cloth, preferring to look at it than their faces – she was so vulnerable now. "I used to hope... dream..." she confessed, "that he could do anything. I thought maybe... someday, once I'd earned it..." Her eyes fixed on her hands; her green, green hands. Fiyero understood.

"You hoped he could change you. Your skin."

Crying now, she buried her face in those green hands and nodded.

"Oh _Elphie_," cried Glinda, flinging both arms around her, "I don't _want_ you to change."

Elphaba scoffed, but the sound was lost in a sob, and Fiyero carefully slid his own arm under Glinda's, making for an awkward three-way hug. Elphaba sank into it, tears spilling down her cheeks, and for a moment she didn't feel lost or afraid; she was safe, surrounded by friends who were willing to be strong _for_ her. They were protecting her, in their own way, and Elphaba couldn't possibly describe how badly she needed that.

When at last it ended, Glinda had regained her determination. She pulled back and knelt right in front of Elphaba, holding her shoulders and looking her straight in the eye. "We're going to make all of Oz love you _just as you are_," she declared. "You're going to walk down the street and people will look at you and say, 'Oh, she's green – she must be that amazing Grand Vizier that's made Oz a better place'."

Fiyero started. "_Grand Vizier_?"

"Yes, Elphie's going to be the Wizard's first advisor," said Glinda, eyes busy examining her friend's features. "Not _really_ an advisor, of course, since she's the one giving all the orders, but that's what they're going to call her, and the first thing we have to do is make everyone in Shiz like you."

Elphaba shook her head, worn out and sighing. "You tried to make me popular already, Glinda. It didn't work."

"This is very different from being _popular_, Elphie," her friend replied as though it were obvious. "You have to be _respected_. You're going to give orders and people have to obey them – everyone, not just people our age, and you're going to be at the very top of Ozian society. It's _so_ different from what we did before." She snatched up some paper and began scribbling notes. "We'll have to design your image really carefully – a whole new wardrobe, just as a start – and you have _no_ manners, so etiquette lessons, and you'll need to know all about who's who in society, and how to dance, of course – Fiyero, dearest, you can help us there, can't you? – and–"

"Glinda, this is about more than _parties_."

Her friend looked a little hurt. "I know that, Elphie," she said seriously. "But I also know that if you want to make people believe in you without scaring them with a silly metal head, you have to play by their rules. So!" she chirped. "Lessons!"

Elphaba groaned, rubbing her forehead, and tugged the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Fiyero, still close beside her, said, "I'll help if you want. Being a prince has to be good for something, right?"

She blinked and smiled through slightly swollen eyes. "I'd... like that," she said. "Thank you."

He smiled at her and shrugged, hesitating a moment before getting up from the floor. Glinda was already standing, unfairly perky for one o'clock in the morning, and Fiyero offered a hand to help Elphaba to her feet. She accepted, and after a moment's awkward silence in which no one was sure what to do, Fiyero moved to the door and bade them both goodnight.

* * *

It didn't take nearly as long to sneak _out_ of the girls' dorm as to sneak _in_, and Fiyero was back in his own room within a few minutes. It was dim and quiet, and he sank down to his bed with a sigh, rubbing one hand over his face.

Life had just become a _lot_ more complicated.

Elphaba. Crying. It was something he'd never thought to see. Not that he blamed her, of course – who wouldn't be after a day like that? Morrible dead, the Great Oz a liar... those things bothered _him_, and he hadn't been there to see them. No, it was hardly surprising that she was upset, and he might have been more troubled if she were calm and collected, but still. She was usually so strong and fierce that seeing her like that was... unsettling.

He wanted to help. He wanted to make her feel better, feel safe and wanted, and those feelings were so absurdly strong that they frightened him. It only occurred to him now that Glinda had been upset as well, struggling to cope with her crestfallen best friend, and that he ought to be worried about her, too.

But Glinda would be fine. So would Elphaba, in time, but he worried anyway.

Groaning, Fiyero flopped back against the pillows. This wasn't going well. For weeks now, his feelings for both girls had been muddled by constant thinking – when had _that_ begun? – and the more time passed, the more certain he was that something had to change, soon.

Well, he thought wryly, something _had_ changed – now the two of them were closer than ever, united by the need for secrecy, and no matter what he did, he was going to hurt _someone_. Quite likely, himself.

But now he was part of this too, and damned if he was going to leave his girls to deal with it alone. He might not enjoy politics, but he knew that world better than either of them, and they would need all the help they could get.

Doctor Dillamond's history book was lying open nearby, a dog-eared page looking up at him. After a moment's thought, Fiyero picked it up and flipped to the very beginning.


	4. Breathing Time

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Four  
_Breathing Time_

Year 19  
Winter

Doctor Dillamond, newly reinstated Professor of Ozian History at Shiz University, breathed deep the chilly air that floated across the campus and quietly reflected that it was good to be home.

It had been a full five weeks since his arrest and nearly a month since the Great Oz had rescued him (and his fellow Animals) after dear Miss Elphaba alerted him to the outrage, but the effects were lingering. He still didn't trust himself to speak without bleating, his back and legs still suffered cramps from the tiny cage he'd been forced into, and life just seemed too... too _jostled_ to suddenly go back to marking essays and lecturing students.

His peers among the faculty had been most understanding. Professor Harbiel, Morrible's deputy and now the temporary headmaster, had graciously allowed him all the time off he needed to recuperate, and Dillamond had spent most of that time in his private apartment, carefully stretching his weakened muscles and grumbling that he was not as young as he used to be.

Soon after his return, the replacement history professor, Nikidik – the one who tried to have Miss Elphaba and Master Fiyero arrested for theft – had been fired on the Wizard's personal command. Having since heard tales of what that man had told his students, let alone how he'd treated that poor Cub, Dillamond felt no small satisfaction at seeing him slink away from campus with a now-illegal cage tucked pathetically under one arm.

The grounds were quiet today. It was a Monday, mid-morning, and most students were either in class or sleeping off hangovers. The grey clouds that threatened rain kept most others inside, but Dillamond needed to feel the cold air; those seven days in a cage, stacked between a Bear and a Cheetah, had left him with a tight, black knot in his chest that no amount of time in a comfortable sitting room could release. He needed to be outside, breathing fresh air, just being _free_.

A withered red leaf slipped from the branches above his head, twirling lightly to the stone floor of the courtyard. Dillamond smiled. He was _home_.

Somewhere behind him, a door banged open and two sets of heavy feet came thumping down the stairs. He turned. Miss Elphaba was coming out of the Life Sciences building, closely followed by a very young man in a green soldier's uniform. Neither saw the Doctor.

"What sort of delivery?" Elphaba was asking, her voice echoing around the courtyard. "Why couldn't this wait until after class?"

The flustered boy replied, "We didn't know where to take them, Miss– ma'am. They're very noisy and it's quite cold and–"

Elphaba stopped dead as she rounded a corner, looking at something Dillamond could not see, and the soldier stumbled as he tried not to run into her. She tensed, her fists clenched, and suddenly she broke into a run, disappearing from view and bellowing, "_WHAT do you think you're DOING?_" – presumably at the soldier's companions.

Doctor Dillamond followed as fast as his shaky legs could carry him. Reaching the corner, breathing hard, he leaned on the wall and found himself looking across the grass at one of the campus gates, where about twenty ruffled-looking men, all in uniform, were surrounded by just as many jumping, screeching, excited, _winged_ Monkeys.

On _leashes_.

* * *

Elphaba ran towards the soldiers, furious, half her mind filled with all the things she was going to scream at Oscar Diggs, the other half wrapped up in guilt for forgetting about the Monkeys in the first place.

"What's happening?" she demanded. "What are you doing? How dare yo– _Oof!_"

A heavy weight slammed into her legs, almost knocking her off balance. One of the Monkeys – the one she'd met, Chistery, still in his neat red coat – had run up and was hugging her around the waist, chattering. It took a moment before she realised that he was saying, "El-ba-ba! El-ba! El-ba!"

She blinked, hesitated, then pulled the Monkey's arms away so she could kneel beside him. "Chistery?" she asked, hopeful. "Do you know me?"

"El-ba-ba!"

"You can talk?"

"Elba!"

"...But can you _understand_ me?"

"Elba!"

Her jaw tightened, but she forced herself to smile and ruffle Chistery's black fur. He seemed happy enough, and kept hold of her hand as she stood up. All his companions seemed cheerful too. Despite the leashes, they were crawling and jumping everywhere, fascinated by the grass and trees and metal benches, sniffing the wind and delighted to be outside. It couldn't be more obvious that until today, they never had been.

In control but no less angry, Elphaba turned her glare on the soldiers, most of whom were too busy trying to keep their charges in place to pay much attention. The leader, the only one besides the messenger who wasn't holding a leash, had a green envelope in hand and was trying very hard to look at _her_ without looking at her _skin_. "Miss Elphaba Thropp?" he asked.

"If you were told to look for the green girl, yes. What's going on?"

He offered her the letter, which was sealed with gold wax. "The Great Wizard of Oz sent us to ensure that these monkeys–"

"_M_onkeys," she corrected, emphasising the proper pronunciation.

"Yes, Monkeys – were safely delivered to you."

"Like cargo?" she snapped, tearing the envelope. "Why would he do that?"

The solider didn't answer. Diggs' letter did.

_My Dear Elphaba_, it began,

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are pleased by the political changes I have been able to achieve so far. I'm sorry not to have managed more, but you will be glad to know that I have written to Shiz's former chemistry professor, a Bear named Telor Arren, offering him the vacant position of Headmaster, as your Doctor Dillamond has already turned it down._

_As of yet, my best minds have not been able to discover why Animals have been turning mute – I'm afraid that was Madame Morrible's project, and she left no notes on her theories – but I thought perhaps you might like to try your own methods of therapy. Chistery in particular seems to have missed you, and as long as he and his family are with you, you can be assured that I am not using them as spies of any kind. _

_I apologise for the leashes, but please believe me when I say this was the only way to safely transport our friends; they didn't understand the idea of travelling to see you, and the train frightened them. Their wings don't seem to be strong enough for sustained flight yet, and I think you'll agree that for now, their safety is more important than their dignity._

_If you have no time for a project of this sort, rest assured that they can be safely and easily returned to the city to be cared for alongside the other Animals whom we are tending to in the hospital. If, however, you wish to work with our friends, my staff and I would greatly appreciate any notes you take or ideas you might have. I will keep you updated on any progress made here. _

_I hope you are happy, Elphaba, and if there is anything more you wish me to do, please know that you need only ask. I look forward to hearing from you._

_With love,_

_Oscar Diggs_

She crumpled the paper.

"All right, fine. Chistery? You're going to be staying here with me. Would you like that?"

"Elba!" He hugged her waist again.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said, softening and pocketing the letter with a mental note to burn it later (couldn't risk anyone seeing 'the Great Oz' grovelling to his 'pupil', after all). She turned to her new charges. Now what?

Looking around, Elphaba noticed that a small crowd of students had gathered, and to her relief, Doctor Dillamond was with them, slowly hobbling towards her. Ignoring the soldiers, she hurried to her favourite teacher and briefly explained the situation. (Chistery, not quite as strong as his handler, fought to follow, and failed.) Dillamond was impressed.

"That's _quite_ a responsibility," he said. "The Great Oz must think very highly of you."

She bit back angry words and replied, "I need help. Please. I've never taken care of anyone but Nessa before – I don't even know where to start."

Doctor Dillamond patted her shoulder and nodded. "I'd be glad to help you, Miss Elphaba," he said, looking around and considering the Monkeys. "The first thing we should do is get them inside; it's a bit too cold to walk around barefoot. Have you thought of anywhere they might live?"

She shook her head. "Just our dorm, but Glinda would kill me."

The old Goat smiled briefly, a slightly awed, joyous look that came over him whenever he was reminded of the blonde girl's touching gesture in his honour. To Glinda's relief, he was blissfully unaware of her embarrassed wish that she really _had_ changed her name for him. "Miss Upland would be quite justified in refusing," he said. "No matter. I think the old gymnasium would suffice – it can be locked from the outside and has more than enough space. I'm sure Professor Harbiel will allow it once you explain the Wizard's wishes."

Belatedly, Elphaba thought to check if there was anything else in her envelope – perhaps some sort of letter for the headmaster, explaining the situation, but no. Instead there was an official document with the Wizard's tidy signature and green seal, instructing the faculty of Shiz to supply Elphaba with anything she needed for this 'special project'. Surprised by the blind trust, she wordlessly handed it to Doctor Dillamond. He read with a proud smile.

"Miss Elphaba," he said softly, after a moment, "you are going to do great things in your life."

She blushed, looking away awkwardly and asked, "Which way's that gym?"

Mindful of her embarrassment, he simply pointed. Elphaba reached out to Chistery (whose dogged determination had outlasted his handler's stubbornness), taking his hand and turning to the soldiers. "This way," she said, and walked on.

* * *

Two weeks later, as Lurlinemas approached, Nessarose Thropp grumbled as she wheeled herself up the gymnasium's old wooden ramp. It was snowing lightly, and all the extra layers she wore to keep off the chill were just making her sweat as she fought to get her chair up to the door, praying it wouldn't slip on hidden ice patches and wondering why any gym would _have_ a ramp in the first place.

Probably so cripples like her could get some exercise.

Reaching the top, she paused for a moment to wipe her forehead and unbutton her coat, knowing how warm it would be inside. Elphaba kept the temperatures absurdly high, insisting that her Monkeys preferred it that way and ignoring the complaints of any human visitors. Maybe she just wanted to discourage them from coming at all – _Oz knows_, Nessa thought, _she always did like being alone._

As a precaution against any of the clever Monkeys sneaking out and flying loose around campus, all the gym's doors and windows had been sealed save for the one which led through the foyer, and so Nessa had to go through two doorways, careful to lock the first before opening the second. Elphaba kept saying that it was only a matter of time before her friends would be able to wander the streets just like everybody else, but Nessa didn't believe it. Really, she was happy for her sister, and the Monkeys were pleasant enough – last time she visited, one of the younger girls had carefully braided her hair – but she just couldn't see them fitting into society if they were so late in simply learning how to _talk_.

A waft of hot air came from the second doorway, and Nessa, reconsidering, took off her coat entirely and hung it, with her scarf and gloves, on the coat rack that already held the thicker parts of Elphaba's uniform. Then she went inside.

Her sister was sitting on one side of the room, stripped down to her sleeveless summer dress, with her hair wrapped in a messy bun and glasses on her nose. She was surrounded by several children's books, and was patiently reading to four older Monkeys – Chimps, to be specific. The rest of them were scattered around, playing or sleeping, making a mess of the beds Elphaba insisted on having for them. The more civilized the environment, she said, the more civilized the person. Nessa just shrugged. "Elphaba?" she called.

The older girl looked up, smiling brightly. "Nessa!" she said, then immediately looked to the Monkeys. "Do you all remember my sister Nessa?"

The responding chitter-chatter seemed like a fairly positive answer. Nessa smiled and wheeled her way over, pleased when two of the little chimps – _Chimps_ – scuttled over to her chair with enthusiastic cries of "'llo, 'llo, 'llo!" She got a shock, though, when a big male suddenly grabbed the handles of her chair and pushed her, at an alarming speed, towards the circle of readers. He was careful, though, if not exactly gentle, and stopped just in time, neatly sliding the chair next to that of her sister. Elphaba beamed.

"_Thank_ you, Tripthy," she exclaimed. "That was very thoughtful. Nessa thanks you, too."

Hint, hint. "Thank you, Tripthy," she said dutifully.

Tripthy just shrugged in a very Monkey-like way and wandered off, more interested in untangling a ball of thread than learning from Elphaba's flashcards. She didn't seem to mind. "Tripthy's learning to sew," she explained. "He's already mended things for his mother and brothers and now he's trying to make something from scratch."

"Is it working?" asked Nessa sceptically as she looked at the oddly-shaped bits of cloth that covered the table Tripthy was sitting on.

"Really well," said Elphaba, surprising her. "It was hard to explain the need for a pattern without words, but once he understood he really _understood_. See the dress Selky's wearing?" she said, pointing to the lady Chimp beside them. "Tripthy made it himself. I just supplied the material."

Nessa looked. Selky's dress was pink, a very simple cut that just tucked in at the waistline, with shoulder straps instead of sleeves, but if rather clumsily stitched, it _was_ a serviceable dress. Nessa was taken aback. "I'm... impressed."

Elphaba grinned. "These are my best speakers," she said, accepting a little hug from Chistery, her star pupil. "Do you want to hear them name the colours?"

"Actually, I'm here to talk to _you_," said Nessa. "Father's letter just arrived with tickets for the trip home. We leave tomorrow evening. I need your help to pack."

"...Oh." Elphaba's enthusiasm vanished completely. "Nessa... I don't think I'll be going home for Lurlinemas."

"What? Why not?"

Elphaba shrugged, turning to hand her flashcards over to Selky and the other Monkeys, who began to stutter out various words on their own. "I don't... want to. I have things to do here. The Monkeys need me. They won't understand if I just stop coming to see them – we don't have enough words to explain that yet."

Somehow, Nessa wasn't really surprised. No one else was interested in spending time with her anymore – why should her sister be any different? With a blank expression, she said, "Father will be disappointed."

Elphaba gave a humourless smile. "You know he won't."

Nessa shrugged. "Will you help me pack?"

"Sure. I need to be heading back, anyway. Glinda's leaving tonight and I want to say goodbye."

As her sister got up to gather the few things she wasn't leaving with the Monkeys, Nessa frowned and said, "But she's been delayed until Tuesday."

"She has?" asked Elphaba. "How do you know?"

"Boq."

"...Ah." Elphaba picked up her bag and bade farewell to the Chimps, carefully pronouncing "good – bye" and grinning when they repeated it perfectly – though they still called her "Elba" and seemed to think it a delightful nickname. Quite content to let them when she had never allowed it before, Elphaba took the chair handles and began to push her sister. Once in the cool foyer, she asked exactly what Nessa was expecting and really did _not_ want to hear: "How are things with Boq, anyway?"

The younger girl snatched her coat from the rack. "Fine. Can you see my scarf anywhere?"

Elphaba picked it up from the floor. "It's just... you seem so unhappy lately."

"I'm _fine_. I know I haven't said it enough, but I'm really glad that you got the apprenticeship you wanted. It's a great honour for our family, and it's good to see you so excited about something. You deserve it."

"And your life?"

"None of your business," said Nessa, pushing through the second door and back out into the snow. The shock of cold air nearly froze the sweat on her brow. Grumbling, she rearranged her scarf to cover her head while Elphaba carefully wheeled her down the ramp.

"I'm just worried about you, Nessa," she said. "What you said that day at the train station – it wasn't like you."

Nessa sighed. "I don't really remember what I said that day."

Elphaba stopped them in front of a frosted bench and sat down, facing her sister and using her foot to jam the brake. "You said there was something wrong with you. That _bothers_ me. There's nothing wrong with you, Nessa."

Glaring, Nessa pointedly tapped her right-hand wheel.

"That doesn't count," said Elphaba. "Boq's known you for months. He can obviously see past your handicap, so if things aren't working out, it has to be because you're just not right _for each other_."

"Since when are you an expert?" Nessa snapped. Her sister suddenly blushed, purple streaks darkening each cheek.

"I'm not, I just... watch people– you," she stammered. "Glinda said it first, remember?"

"Oh, _Glinda_," sneered Nessa. "Yes, Glinda's the expert, isn't she? How many boyfriends has she had?"

"She never told me."

"I'll bet it's a lot. And I've had one, Elphaba – _one_. What if that's all I ever have?" her voice wavered, very slightly, but she continued angrily. "What if no one else ever takes the time to get to know me, much less love me? Then what?"

"You'll be like me," her sister said quietly, dark eyes keeping a steady gaze. "You'll make the best of your life alone. Better that than to be with someone who doesn't love you in return."

Nessa's eyes narrowed, very slightly, and then she said something that was either an attempt to change the subject entirely or which showed far more insight than her sister had _ever_ given her credit for. "Will Fiyero be here for the holidays?"

Elphaba jumped, startled, and blinked. "Er... no. He's going back to the Vinkus for his sister's birthday."

"I see." Being the younger sibling, the one always being cared _for_, Nessa took an odd pleasure in seeing Elphaba squirm under her gaze. "Well, I'll be on tomorrow's train, and I need to pack. Can we go in now? I'm getting a headache."

"Yes," said Elphaba, scrambling to her feet and releasing the brake. "Let's – let's go."


	5. Cause For Celebration

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Five  
_Cause For Celebration_

Year 20  
Spring

_Dear Elphaba,  
I hope you are well, and I'm glad to hear that Chistery and his family have settled in so nicely. Your last report was_

No, thought Oscar, shaking his head; that wouldn't work. "Report" was a bad word – it made Elphaba sound like some sort of officer under his command. "Letter" would have been better, but her pages of correspondence, which arrived so punctually every two weeks, really were nothing more than clinical notes on the progress of the Monkeys, and half of it was actually written by Doctor Dillamond – that didn't count.

Scratching out the writing, he started again.

_Dear Elphaba,  
You will be pleased to hear that as of today, at least one of your requests has been fulfilled: Every Animal whose livelihood was affected by my actions have been either restored or compensated for_

No. "Requests" didn't sound right, and Elphaba wouldn't like to hear anything about 'compensation', although it was the only practical solution he could think of. No benign leader could fire human teachers from places like Shiz just to reinstate previous ones, not if they hadn't done anything wrong. As a compromise, he was arranging to fund an expansion of several schools in order to have more teachers on any given staff, but it was a slow process and not something to put in what should be the happiest letter he'd sent yet.

Deciding to avoid politics entirely, Oscar began a new draft, this time getting straight to the point.

_My dear Elphaba,  
Congratulations on your twentieth birthday. I'm very sorry that I can't be there to celebrate it with you, but I'm sure you are having a good time with your friends and_

Bah! That wouldn't work _either_ – she wouldn't _want_ him to be there. But what else could he say?

Putting down his quill, Oscar stretched his fingers and reached for the black velvet box that sat innocently on one side of his desk. It was open, and on the cushion inside lay a beautiful silver necklace; the first gift from this father to his daughter. It was fairly simple, as he didn't take Elphaba for the type to like fancy ornaments, with a thin chain and a small pendant shaped like a starburst – a pattern of glass triangles studded with tiny diamonds. It was elegant, not too intimate, but Oscar still worried that his daughter would reject it entirely.

It wasn't as if he knew her very well.

Sighing, the 'great' Wizard of Oz gave up his efforts for now and picked up the thick pile of envelopes that his assistants delivered every day. He leafed through them aimlessly, looking at names and vaguely guessing at their contents: Baron Appleton would be complaining about his taxes again, Lady Rodmilla still wanted in on his advisory cabinet, Governor Thropp was probably needing a loan to stabilise his farmers after that fire in the Corn Basket (Oscar didn't know quite how he felt about that man, lucky enough to raise _two_ daughters all on his own, but didn't let it get in the way of his generosity) and then there was–

A letter from Elphaba.

Heart in his throat, half hopeful and half in fear, Oscar tore it open. Her last missive was only three days old – had something happened? Was she all right?

_Diggs_, she wrote:

_Chistery sends his greetings._

Oscar blinked, re-read the line, and broke into a smile.

_His speech is stilted and his vocabulary poor, but for the last four hours Doctor Dillamond and I have been talking with him about all sorts of things, including you. He calls you Loud-Bang-Man and says you were very nice. Several of the other Chimps were able to join our conversation at one time or another, and Chistery spent quite a while explaining words and meanings to them himself, and he only needed our help when his adjectives failed him. _

_All their talk is very concrete, focused on objects they can see and touch or remember, but Doctor Dillamond and I believe that they understand abstract notions like "beauty" just as well, and that as soon as we can communicate the words alongside the concepts, they will be able to use them easily. All but Tripthy and Marka seem eager to learn, and even they understand what is going on if Chistery explains it to them. _

_Now you can tell people that we have definitive proof of Animal intelligence, regardless of whether they were taught to speak as children. It's not mimicry. Make sure people understand that – especially soldiers; the security guards at the train station are constantly stopping Animal passengers, but rarely search humans. _

_Detailed notes are on the way, along with a transcript of the conversation._

_Elphaba Thropp_

Still smiling, Oscar nodded quietly and put the letter down. His daughter's words were hardly the warm or friendly sort he was always hoping for, but at least she was writing to _him_ now rather than just sending reports and complaints about the problems she observed at Shiz.

Feeling that a celebration was in order, Oscar took a bottle from one drawer and poured himself a drink – brandy, this time, not the green stuff – and raised his glass to toast the empty room. "Congratulations, my girl," he said softly. "I'm proud of you."

Draining it, Oscar leaned back in his chair and noticed a crumpled bit of pink paper sticking out of Elphaba's envelope. It was small, just a note, and scrunched up as though it had been shoved in at the last moment, or through a small gap. Curious, he unfolded it, and it took a moment before he recognised that the curly, swirling script was Miss Glinda's.

_Mr Diggs_, it began:

_I know Elphaba hasn't been writing to you much, but I want you to know that even though she isn't saying it, she's very happy with all that you've done already. I'm sorry for her rudeness, but you must understand how hurt she is by what happened that day. Please know that we're very grateful to you, and I'm sure that in time, she will come around. _

_Best wishes,  
Glinda Upland of Clan Arduenna_

Surprised and quite touched, Oscar looked at the little paper for several long moments before carefully filing it away with all of Elphaba's older letters. What a dear, sweet girl. So generous. Admittedly, the kind of child that Oscar had always imagined having, and for a fleeting, shameful moment he wished that Miss Glinda had turned out to be his daughter– but then he struck the thought aside, scolding himself, and simply promised to do something nice for his daughter's best friend.

But... Oh, Elphaba. She didn't make things easy. Clearly she wouldn't appreciate him making a fuss over her birthday, but it _was_ perfectly reasonable for him to send something in congratulations for her achievement... wasn't it? He thought so, but would she? Would she accept anything from him? And what would he _say_?

Oscar's eyes roamed the desk, drawn to his pristine emerald stationary and the bright pink spark of Miss Glinda's note. He smiled and picked up the pen.

_Miss Glinda,_

_Thank you very much for your letter. I hope that you are well, and that your new sorcery instructor is up to Madame Morrible's standards. I regret that I must ask you a favour..._

* * *

That year, Elphaba's birthday fell on a fresh, sunny weekend in early spring. Not expecting anything special, she went about her business as usual, and although Nessa would, of course, have prepared a gift that she'd hand over in private sometime that day, Elphaba simply assumed that Glinda wouldn't recall the exact date she'd told Diggs and that Fiyero never knew it in the first place.

She was, of course, wrong.

Her friends had been conspiring in secret for well over a week, arranging everything that they (Glinda, mostly) had decided was absolutely necessary for a proper celebration. They weren't throwing a very big party – Elphaba wouldn't enjoy that – but a cake, wine, and several presents were called for, as well as absolute secrecy. As Glinda suddenly had to tend to a minor disaster at the baker's that morning and because having Nessa around would raise suspicion, Fiyero was left with the task of not only distracting Elphaba, but with keeping her far away from the dormitory.

He was quite enjoying it.

They were sitting outside, in the grass beside an old tree and near one of the smaller ponds. Other students were scattered around, some trying to catch up on assignments, some skipping rocks and chatting about nothing in particular. Elphaba, of course, was working, with several books lying open around her, while Fiyero stretched out on his back in the sun, hands laced comfortably behind his head. She was asking about Vinkun politics, and he was feeling very intelligent.

"But how can your government keep taking in jobless Animals without resorting to some sort of charity? Surely there isn't that much of a labour shortage in the Vinkus."

"There isn't," said Fiyero, eyes closed behind his sunglasses, "but for years my father's been itching to start all these agricultural projects that there just hasn't been time for – he thinks it's appalling that we have so much good soil sitting unused out there. Under the grasslands, I mean."

"Well I didn't think you'd start trying to farm the desert," Elphaba said dryly, closing the book on her lap. "But aren't you going to lose a lot of money employing labourers you don't really need?"

"Nope." He grinned, tilting his head back to look at her, upside-down. "We might be tribal heathens, Elphaba, but we're not poor. We can afford to employ a few thousand people for a couple of years, and Father's promised to eventually sell land rights to anyone who's willing to work one of the new farms. Besides, once all that grain and cotton and whatnot starts exporting, we'll have the turnover profits _and_ the loyalty of a big workforce."

Elphaba leaned back against the tree trunk and stretched out her legs, glad she'd worn light summer shoes instead of her boots, because now she could poke him in the ribs. He jumped. "I didn't know you were so good with economics."

"I'm not, I hate it," said Fiyero, shuffling around to lean against her shin so she couldn't tickle him again. "But I had to learn – we didn't get to be the most powerful tribe in the Vinkus through blood and conquest."

"Really?" she asked. "The history books don't say much, but they make it sound like the Arjiki were just too powerful to be challenged."

He shook his head, hair tickling her leg. "We are _now_, but five centuries ago there were a hundred other little tribes that all wanted to come out on top. We absorbed them – sometimes through war, but mostly by intermarrying and monopolising trade. Now there are a handful of fairly big clans, but they don't rival us, so they swear loyalty and we give them seats on the council to keep them happy."

She smiled, but carefully shifted her legs out from under him and folded them closer to her body. "Do you think you'll like being king?"

Fiyero hesitated, then took off his sunglasses and rolled onto his stomach, oddly pensive. "You know, it's funny," he mused. "A year ago I would have said no, no way, never. But... well, after talking like this with you for months, about everything you're planning to do once you become vizier..." he shrugged. "It makes me think of all these things I want to see happen in the Vinkus."

He looked at her, and Elphaba met his gaze for a moment before glancing sharply away. Fiyero twisted fluidly and sat up.

"Then again," he said lightly, brushing at grass stains, "my brother has pretty much the same ideas and he actually _wants_ the crown."

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "I thought you had a sister."

"I do, and two brothers – one's just a baby, though. I could abdicate in favour of any of them, and Father's already grooming Narjin for the job." He chuckled. "Every time I go home he and Mother drop heavy hints that it would be _very_ easy for me to just step aside. Until now I was just holding out to tease them."

"And now?"

He shifted, almost awkwardly, and looked away as he settled himself against the tree trunk near her. "Now I'm not sure."

Elphaba said nothing, but Fiyero had the distinct impression that he was being analysed. Uncomfortable, he reached for the nearest book and flipped it open – it was her sorcery text. "Tell me what you're learning," he said.

She arched one of those expressive black eyebrows, but didn't call him out. "Theory, mostly. Madame Morrible was so busy trying to see what I could manage that she never really taught us the basics. Madame Lunnor's more practical; she insists that we understand every word of the spells before trying them." Her face darkened and she added, "Otherwise we can never reverse them."

The Monkeys. Fiyero winced. "I thought spells couldn't be reversed anyway."

"None can, if you cast them without thinking. Every word of the chants means something, and if we translate them, we can change the spell. Here, I'll show you." Reaching for her book bag, Elphaba glanced around at the other students before carefully pulling out the Grimmerie, which she usually kept locked in her dormitory. Leafing through it, her eyes swiftly scanned each page while Fiyero just felt dizzy, seeing the wild, colourful script that ran crazily up and down the margins of the paper. Several white sheets were tucked in between the old ones, covered what looked like half-finished translations. Glinda's handwriting made up a large part of it.

Finding the right spot, Elphaba removed a page of notes in a spidery script that he could at least read, if not understand. "This is the levitation spell," she said. "Madame Lunnor helped me figure out what went wrong. See here, and here? Those words define that the intention is flight – but what they literally mean is 'travel by air'. Look at this bit here," she said, tapping the bottom of the page. "Those are words that can be substituted to modify the spell. _This_ is the one I should have used."

Fiyero laced his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand. "That would have made it temporary?"

"That would have just made them float, not grow wings," she replied. "No, to make a spell temporary you need to add extra phrases to the original casting. If I'd built in some sort of end-trigger – a set of specific words or some sort of time limit – then the wings would have fallen off; they would have been designed to. But I didn't, and there's no way to reverse magic once the spell has finished its task. You can't add to it."

She looked ready to fall into another one of her sulks, and that was something Fiyero just _refused_ allow, especially today. "Show me?" he asked, nudging her and trying to look adorable. "Please?"

The dramatically overdone pout and big eyes were enough to make her laugh. She shoved him and shook her head. "Fine. Give me something you don't mind being destroyed if I make a mistake."

Fiyero hesitated, wondered if she was serious, decided not to test the theory, and picked up her quill.

"I meant something of _yours_."

"This way you'll be less likely to set it on fire. Go on."

Elphaba fought another smile, failed, and used the quill to scribble out a particular variation of the spell, checking it twice and showing him which words meant what, though they all sort of jumbled together in front of him. Then, setting it down, Elphaba focused on the quill and began to murmur, hands drifting lazily over it. Her voice took on a deeper, more melodic tone, and as the quill began to rise, a smile broke out across her face.

Using magic always did that to her, Fiyero realised. It made her so _happy_, in a way that diligently learning laws and patiently teaching Monkeys never could. It was something she was born to do.

Glinda loved casting, too.

Suddenly realising how close they were actually sitting – far too close for anyone other than his official girlfriend – Fiyero carefully shifted away. Elphaba, wrapped up in the spell, didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were focused on the feather and she bit her lip, pressure turning the dark green skin a faint purple, and after sending the quill above their heads in lazy circles, guided by her small wrist movements, she turned to him and grinned. "_Sibu atum_!" she declared, and it dropped to the grass, motionless.

Fiyero reached out and twirled it between his fingers, tickling his skin. "I'm impressed."

She beamed, unable to help herself, and suddenly Fiyero was struck by how lovely she really was. Not conventionally; she was neither beautiful nor exactly sexy, but just... pretty. Her loose hair fluttered around a face completely lit up by her smile. It wasn't the first time he'd noticed, but today it hit him like a punch to the gut, and he was deeply ashamed for having ever judged her by her skin. She was attractive – alluring, even – and in moments like this, when she was so completely _herself_, without any masks of anger or insecurity, Fiyero was convinced that he loved her.

But... he loved Glinda too.

_Damn it_. All this time spent with both girls, trying to figure out what exactly Elphaba was going to do with her new authority, had only served to muddle Fiyero's feelings further. He loved Glinda. It wasn't the same, more like what he felt for his sister, but he did love her. No matter how shallow their beginning, Fiyero cared about her more than almost anyone he'd ever met, and he didn't want to lose her, ever, but... their romance was already fading.

And he was falling for Elphaba. It was clichéd and sappy and he couldn't _believe_ he was thinking it, but he, Fiyero Tiggular, was actually falling in love.

With Elphaba.

This was a Problem.

If nothing else, it wasn't fair to Glinda. She was convinced that he loved her, and even if nothing ever came of his feelings for Elphaba, she didn't deserve to play second fiddle to her best friend. Perhaps, in another life, he could have loved Glinda the way she wanted him to, but not now. Not anymore. Glinda was a vibrant, lively, charming person who didn't deserve to be _anybody_'s second choice.

This had to end.

* * *

For a while longer, Fiyero and Elphaba chatted aimlessly in the dappled sunlight under their tree. She cast a few other simple spells for entertainment, surprising him by turning his vest a hideodious orange, and he made her laugh, attacking her with flying clumps of grass. All the while he kept an eye on the university clock tower, and at exactly seventeen minutes past two (_why_ Glinda had picked that number he would never know), Fiyero suggested that they go and look for her roommate.

"She's probably in our room," said Elphaba, packing her book bag. "She said she had an essay to do after she finished shopping in town."

Fiyero raised both eyebrows – that was an interesting lie to pick. "You must be rubbing off on her."

She shrugged, looking pleased. "Maybe."

Strictly speaking, there was no rule at Shiz forbidding men from being in the women's dormitory, or vice-versa, but to do so anyway always earned some strange looks – amused ones, mostly, from the students, and some disapproving scowls from the faculty. Elphaba was uneasy, and tried once to keep him outside – "she might just be at the lake" – but Fiyero replied that he had to borrow a textbook anyway.

Any other person who knew it was their birthday and hadn't arranged something themselves would almost certainly have guessed, but Nessa was right – Elphaba never suspected anything. So, when she opened the door to see her room filled with coloured streamers, balloons and gift-wrapped presents, she was _stunned_.

"SURPRISE!" cried two voices, one notably more bubbly than the other. Glinda burst out from behind one bed, wearing bright colours with several flowers pinned in her hair, and Nessa, also dressed for the occasion, wheeled herself around a corner, beaming.

"Congratulations," she said, laughing at her sister's expression. "Happy twentieth."

Elphaba covered her gaping mouth. "But... you..." She blinked. "This is a birthday party?"

Fiyero, who had almost been forgotten behind her, said, "Well, it's too late for Lurlinemas." She turned to face him, and he chuckled. "Of course it is. Your birthday, in case you ask. Why else would we have 'Happy Birthday Elphaba' written on the cake?"

She spun back to see the frosted mountain that sat neatly in the middle of her desk, surrounded by a ridiculous number of presents. She took a step towards them, then another, then stopped and stared at her friends. "You did all this for me?"

"Of course," chimed two voices.

"Elphie," said Glinda seriously, bouncing on the bed, "you really need to learn what having friends _means_."

And she did. After being made to sit down between all three of them – and after trying to subtly rub some water from her eyes – Elphaba threw herself into the celebration, cutting the cake while laughing at the silly tradition, savouring the taste while asking how they knew she liked lemon so much (Nessa claimed credit), and cheerfully agreeing to try the wine that Fiyero insisted was one of the best Vinkun years yet.

It was, she felt, the best day of her life.

Once they'd eaten and chatted, having told the entire story of their secret mission (apparently the baker had mixed up their order with a cobbler's wedding cake and had to hurriedly re-ice the whole thing), an excited Nessa insisted that her sister start to open presents.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Elphaba said, "You really didn't need to do this."

"Yes we did," said Fiyero, and the girls murmured agreement.

"Pick one, Elphie," said Glinda, gesturing to the stack of oddly-shaped surprises. "Which one do you want to open first?"

Elphaba, feeling spoiled beyond all belief, shyly turned to the desk and looked them over. She pointed to the smallest box, which lay quietly next to a half-filled blue balloon. "That one," she said, and Glinda tensed.

Nessa, who was closest, handed it over, and Elphaba took off the paper carefully, amused by Fiyero insisting that such wrapping was _meant_ to be torn. She didn't know enough about jewellery to recognise that the black velvet box was itself quite expensive, but when she lifted the lid and saw the starburst of glass triangles, her eyes widened in pure delight.

Lifting the silver chain from the box, she held it between her fingers, letting the pendant dangle in the sunlight. Her sister and Fiyero leaned in to look at it, Fiyero said, "Those are real diamonds," and Elphaba cradled the lovely trinket in her palm.

"It's beautiful," she said, looking up. "Glinda, did you...?"

"Do you like it?"

Elphaba looked back at her palm and nodded, letting them see, for just a moment, the small, girlish part of her that wanted so desperately to be beautiful. "I _love_ it," she said. "But... Glinda, you shouldn't have."

"Oh, I didn't," said Glinda lightly, as Fiyero unlocked the clasp and fastened it around his friend's neck. "It's not from me."

Elphaba, who was holding her hair out of the way while Fiyero fiddled with the chain, frowned and looked at him. "Then... it's from you?" she asked, voice slightly strained with mixed emotions.

"It's from the Wizard," replied Glinda, and with a snap of the head she had her roommate's full attention. "He wasn't sure if you'd like it, so he sent it to me, and asked me to decide if we should give it to you. You _do_ like it, so I guess I made the right choice."

Hardening, but unable to say anything in front of Nessa, Elphaba fingered the silver chain. She could hardly take back her words now – she _did_ like it, and the same small part of her that wanted to be pretty did _not_ want to give up the finest, most beautiful item she'd ever owned no matter _who_ it was from. She could hardly be angry with Diggs for giving her a present, but it felt like accepting a bribe. More to the point, it felt like accepting _him_, as a part of her, a part of her life, and she didn't think she could do that.

...Then again, it was just a necklace.

At last she nodded and smiled slightly. "Thanks, Glinda."

The blonde girl beamed. "Don't thank me yet – thank me for this one!" she declared, pulling a larger gift from the pile. "Go on, open it. Open it, open it, open it!"

Laughing, Elphaba did so.

* * *

Two days later, a letter arrived at the Emerald Palace, bearing the postmark of Shiz University. Oscar opened it carefully, fingers shaking, and read the tiny note.

_Thank you for the necklace. It's beautiful.  
– Elphaba_

He _danced_.


	6. Letting Go

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Six  
_Letting Go_

Year 20  
Summer

Glinda Upland wasn't stupid. Light-hearted and somewhat naive, maybe, but she was observant and sensitive and prided herself on always being there for an unhappy friend, and she was always the one who noticed their problems first. She was good like that, always had been, and aside from that time when Fiyero suddenly started becoming moody and _thinking_ for no apparent reason, Glinda had never really been surprised by an emotional revelation from any of her friends.

That was why she was so startled, one afternoon during the final exams of second year, when Nessarose casually mentioned that her sister was in love with Fiyero.

It was a hot, humid day at Shiz. Grey clouds were thickening, threatening thunder, though as yet only a warm drizzle had actually fallen, leaving many people damp, sweaty, and annoyed. Most sought shelter inside, and Glinda, thanking Lurline that she hadn't worn white, was one of them. Elphaba was off with Doctor Dillamond and the Monkeys – they were taking Selky and Chistery on a tour of the campus, with strict lectures on the dangers of flying too far – but would be coming in for lunch soon enough, and Glinda, who found their dormitory unbearable when alone, had gone on ahead to the university's dining hall.

A handful of other students were already there, scattered through the big room, either slumped over polished wooden tables or pressing their faces against the huge glass windows. Conversation was soft and tired, and in sharp contrast, Boq's unquenchable energy was impossible to miss.

"Miss Glinda!" he cried, waving. "Miss Glinda, over here!"

He was sitting with Nessarose in a far corner, near one of the wall-like windows, and Glinda, who couldn't possibly pretend not to have heard him, put on a smile and walked over, deliberately asking _Nessa_ if she could join them.

"Of course. Sit down."

Boq shot to his feet, scrambling to pull an extra chair from the nearest table and holding it until Glinda was seated comfortably. Nessa watched without expression, spearing salad leaves with her fork.

"How are your exams going, Nessa?" Glinda asked politely, keeping her eyes firmly on the girl and away from the eager Munchkin. "I heard that political science was very difficult yesterday."

"It was," said Nessa blandly, "but Boq helped me study for it, and I think I did well."

"That's good to hear," said Glinda. "Your father will be proud."

"I hope so."

Boq immediately jumped in: "What about you, Miss Glinda? Have you had an exam yet?"

"Not yet, Boq, no," she said, trying to ignore the way he lit up whenever she got his name right. "Neither Elphie nor I have anything until next week."

"That means you have more time to study! –oh, not that you _need_ it, of course," he added hurriedly. "I'm sure you'll do well. You're so clever."

"Thank you." Glinda hesitated, then asked, as she was expected to, how Boq's exams were going.

"Oh, Miss Glinda, I haven't had any so far – I've been studying all week but I just don't know if I _know_ it, you know? And I can't afford not to pass because I'm only here on a scholarship for Munchkinland, so do you think that maybe if you have time you could–?"

"Just a tick-tock," Glinda interrupted, brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'a scholarship _for_ Munchkinland'?"

"Most Munchkinlanders are farmers," said Nessa, as if it wasn't common knowledge. "There aren't many families who can afford Shiz tuition, so every year Father funds a scholarship so that more of our people can get a higher education."

"But if I don't get top marks in all my classes I won't get the money for next year, so I was hoping you'd help me stu–"

"We can't afford it," Nessa defended, somewhat stiffly. "In the past there have been students who earned the scholarship only to fail classes out of laziness once at Shiz. You only need an eighty percent average," she added.

"But that's not easy to–"

"Wha– hold on," said Glinda, shaking her head. "I thought scholarships covered all three years of tuition. My cousin Mardra graduated a few years ago and she never needed any sort of high average."

Boq looked a little sour. "Only the Gillikinese government does that."

"But... most people from Gillikin can afford it anyway," said Glinda, confused. "Is– _That_'s why there's so few Munchkin students?"

"And no Quadlings at all," Nessa nodded. "Yes."

"Well that's not right," decreed Glinda. "Everyone should have an equal chance of getting into Shiz. The Wizard should make sure of it."

"Are you going to... talk to him?" asked Boq, wide-eyed. "You're going to take this _to the Wizard_?"

"I most certainly will," said Glinda, fishing in her purse for the little (pink) notebook that Elphie had given her a while ago, almost as a joke. Borrowing Boq's pen, she scribbled a few words and straightened up with a flourish. "There! I'll put it in my next letter."

"Thank you so _much_, Miss Glinda! That's so _good_ of you. I'm sure the Wizard will listen to anything you say–"

"Boq," said Nessa calmly, "would you mind bringing us another jug of water?" She gestured to the empty glasses on their table. "It's so hot, and poor Glinda looks exhausted."

The Munchkin boy was up in a flash, darting across the room so fast that, for a moment, students on either side of his path had no need to fan themselves. He turned and waved back, just because he could, and Glinda politely returned it before looking at the girl she hoped could be called a friend. Nessarose was staring steadily at her plate.

Glinda sighed. "I'm sorry, Nessa," she said.

"For what?" Nessa asked lightly, even though it was completely rhetorical.

"For _that_," Glinda said anyway. "For Boq, for the way he behaves around me. I don't encourage it, you know."

"Of course not."

"And I really hope things work out well between you."

"Thanks."

"People don't _choose_ who they fall in love with, Nessa."

The younger girl stiffened, white fingers tightening on her fork, and she closed her eyes. "No, they don't," she said. "So if you're trying to tell me that I might be happier without Boq, don't. Please. I love him, Glinda. He _is_ the one for me, and I won't give up just because he has a silly crush on some other woman."

"But... Nessa, this must _bother_ you."

She shrugged. "Does it bother you when my sister acts like _that_ around Fiyero?" she asked, gesturing at something behind Glinda's back. Turning, she looked around the dining hall until she saw her best friend and boyfriend sitting together at a far table, barely visible around a corner, chatting happily with no textbooks in sight.

_They must not have seen me_, she thought, and turned back with a puzzled expression. "Of course not, Nessa, that's different. Elphie isn't in _love_ with–"

Nessa raised both eyebrows. Glinda blinked.

"She _is_?"

"You didn't _know_?"

Twisting in her seat to observe the pair again, Glinda slowly shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I didn't."

A jumble of feelings dropped heavily into her stomach, twisting and mixing until she could barely tell them all apart. Hurt was in there somewhere, as was sadness, some sort of possessiveness, and an absurd sense of jealousy, but all of it was numbed away by her overwhelming sense of shock. Elphaba, in love? How could she – she! Elphie's best friend in the entire _world_ – possibly have missed something as important as _that_?

Well... maybe she hadn't. Nessa could be wrong, after all; it wasn't as though she were an expert, and if Elphie hadn't _told_ her... then again, Elphie never told anyone much of anything, did she? She'd said several times that she knew nothing about love, was openly disdainful Glinda's collection of romance novels, was always uncomfortable when her roommate chatted about what happened on her latest date...

But there could be a very different reason for _that_, couldn't there?

Glinda didn't know what to think, or say, or feel. She knew she should probably be upset, ready to shout at Elphaba – that's what all her storybook heroines did, usually just before a dramatic battle where they needed that friendship most – but she didn't feel angry. She didn't feel anything, really, just a vague sense of sorrow and a hope that Nessa _was_ wrong, because if Elphie loved Fiyero, it was going to make things very awkward.

_That's selfish_, she suddenly thought, scolding herself in a voice that sounded eerily like her mother's. Elphie was (possibly) suffering a terrible heartache all on her own, without even her best friend to help her through it – Glinda had no _right_ to be complaining about awkwardness. And she _should_ be helping, because... well, all right, it was hardly her _fault_ that she and Fiyero loved each other, but still – one didn't refuse to apologise for knocking someone into a puddle just because they hadn't caused the rain. Right now, Elphie needed her.

If Nessa was right, of course, and Glinda wasn't convinced of that. Loving sister though she might be, Nessarose didn't spent nearly as much time with Elphaba as Glinda did lately, and besides, Glinda understood romance better than either of them.

Feeling better, back in control, Glinda straightened up and smiled at Nessa, who seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed by the other girl's long, sad-looking silence. "Thanks, Nessa. I'm glad you told me."

"You're not worried?"

"Why should I be?" replied Glinda, having forgotten that the original conversation was about Boq, and that she'd been trying to make a point. "Elphie would never betray me."

"And Fiyero?" asked Nessa.

Glinda blinked. "Of course not." That went without saying.

* * *

For the next few days, Glinda kept a close eye on her roommate, asking all sorts of harmless little questions and watching carefully for any response. Elphaba was remarkably, annoyingly close-mouthed; most of her answers were ambiguous, and those that weren't were so innocent that Glinda couldn't use them to prove anything, even to herself. Trying to talk about the future, meaning husbands and babies, turned into a discussion of politics and long-term Animal Rights issues which Glinda learned nothing from. Mentioning that Fiyero would be coming to their room to study sparked no sudden, embarrassed cleanup of the desk or bookshelves, and casually remarking that he'd said Elphie's birthday necklace looked good on her only earned Glinda a smile and another thanks for helping to deliver it.

Frustrated, she decided to give up on subtlety.

It was evening, two days before their history exam, and as a reward for studying so hard Fiyero had decided they should all go into town to see a rather famous play that was touring there. Somehow he had found them three tickets, and the girls were very excited – Elphaba less vocally, of course.

Glinda was standing in front of the mirror in their dormitory, fixing her hair into something suitably elegant for a night at the theatre – it was a rather fancy affair, after all, and she didn't want to look second-class. She'd managed to talk Elphaba into wearing a fairly pretty dress of dark purple even though Elphie said it made her look like an eggplant, and her own shimmering blue gown was a nice complement that neither clashed with nor drew attention to her friend's green skin. Fiyero would be wearing dark red, apparently, and that would make them a nicely varied, colourful little group.

In retrospect, it wasn't the best time to bring up difficult questions. Glinda, however, didn't think of that until _after_ she'd asked, "Do you like Fiyero?"

The green girl snorted, busy untangling a fancy, borrowed earring from the loose bun Glinda had wound her hair into. "What a silly question," she said, wincing as some strands ripped. "Of course I do."

"That's not what I meant. Are you in love with him?"

Elphaba froze, a look of horror dashing across her face, and even as she said, "No – no, that's _ridiculous_," it was too late: Glinda had her answer.

Yes.

"_No_," pressed Elphaba, flustered, trying not to see Glinda's knowing expression. "That's absurd. Insane. Where did you _ever_ get that idea?"

"Your sister."

"Remind me to kill my sister," said Elphaba. "She doesn't know anything."

Sitting down on the bed beside her friend, Glinda asked, "Doesn't she?"

"I already told you – no."

"I don't believe you."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Don't change the subject, Elphie," Glinda chided gently. "Just tell me the truth."

"I _don't_ like him!" Elphaba snapped, jumping to her feet. With two large steps she crossed the room and leaned on the windowsill, watching the rain fall outside.

"Really, Elphie, would you be so upset if it weren't true?"

She flinched, and one could almost see her thinking, _Damn – logic_. Keeping her back to the room, Elphaba rested her forehead against the glass and said, "Glinda, please don't..."

"Just say it."

"I _can't_." Elphaba scrunched her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. "_Please_, Glinda."

Glinda was not the type to stubbornly hold out for an answer – she knew it, Elphie knew it, and Elphie knew that she knew it. There was no need to torture her. "All right then, don't say it. I understand."

That didn't make Elphaba feel any better. In fact, she looked positively stricken as she turned around, arms folded protectively across her front and fingers digging nervously into her skin. "I'm _sorry_," she whispered. "I'm really, really sorry. I can't help it and I don't want to and I didn't _mean_ to, I just... It's _nothing_, Glinda," she promised, hurrying back to kneel beside the bed, just as she would by Nessa's chair. "I swear to you that it's nothing, and I'm doing everything I can to get rid of it. Everything. I just don't want you to hate me. Please don't be angry."

If she were honest with herself, Glinda would have admitted that a little spark of anger _was_ buried somewhere in the knot of her muddled feelings – but she didn't. Instead she just laid a hand over the hard green knuckles and said, "I could never hate you, Elphie."

Elphaba's relief was palpable. She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and squeezing her friend's hand. "Thank you."

Glinda felt a strange spark of amusement, a sharp contrast to the funny cold knot in her chest. "Really, Elphie, do you think you're the only one?" she asked, and Elphaba looked up warily, puzzled. "Half the girls in Shiz fancy themselves in love with Fiyero. He's rich, handsome, and really, really nice. What girl in her right mind _wouldn't_ want him?"

Elphie actually chuckled at that, though it was strained and tense. "Make sure he doesn't hear you – his ego's big enough all ready."

They shared a small laugh then, more out of relief than real humour. Glinda patted the mattress beside her and Elphie got up, sitting hesitantly on the edge of her own bed. She watched Glinda closely, trying to read her expression.

"You're really okay with this?"

Glinda offered a half-smile. "You can't help it, Elphie, I understand that. No one chooses who they fall in love with, and I... I can't pretend I _like_ it," she said honestly, "but I do understand. I don't want you to suffer all by yourself."

Elphaba smiled back, just a tad indulgent. "I'm not suffering, Glinda. I just don't want to lose my best friend."

"It's okay, Elphie, you can tell me," said Glinda, blithely assuming she had lied. "There's nothing wrong with crying, especially at times like this. I understand how you... well, _I've_ never felt it, but I know that unrequited love is a horrendible thing to–"

"It's _not_ love," declared Elphaba, cheeks flushing purple. "It's... I don't know what it is. But not love."

Now it was Glinda's turn to be indulgent. "All right, 'like', then. Unrequited _like_ is never easy. I want to make sure you're okay." She hesitated for a long minute, then said, "Don't you want to talk about it? Things always seem better when you talk about them. I'll just run down and tell Fiyero we can't go tonight, I'm sure he won't mind–"

"No, Glinda, don't," protested Elphaba, grabbing her wrist. "You've been looking forward to this all week. And I'm fine, really..." she hesitated. "But it might be best if I stay here tonight." She toyed with the rich fabric of her dress. "You won't have fun if I'm there."

Though reluctant, Glinda had to admit that was true. "Are you sure?" she asked after a moment.

"I'm sure. Go and have fun with Fiyero. I... I think I'll visit Chistery."

Glinda smiled at that – she was very fond of the Monkeys – and stood up. "Well, make sure you change first – that dress is too pretty to be spoiled." Elphaba nodded, smiling slightly, and Glinda added, "And remember that you can always talk to me. Promise?"

"I promise."

They didn't say much more after that, as Glinda was now running late and had to hurry to finish accessorising, but as she did she watched her friend carefully, and as bizarre as it might be to Glinda, Elphie really _did_ seem fine. In fact, she seemed much happier – more comfortable, maybe – than she had for weeks. She was quick to laugh when Glinda put her shoes on backwards, though that might have been relief seeping out, and spontaneously hugged her friend before opening the door. Glinda smiled, reassured, and rushed off to meet her boyfriend.

The first thing he said was, "Where's Elphaba?"

Glinda froze, almost stumbling on the last stair as she felt something cold creep up through her belly. Then she shook her head – how silly. Of course he was expecting both of them.

She must have hesitated too long because Fiyero peered curiously at her and took a step forward. "Is something wrong? You look upset."

Without stopping to think about it, Glinda smoothed her features into a pleasant smile. "I'm fine, dearest."

He nodded, glancing at the stairs, then back at her, several times. When Glinda said nothing he asked, "Well, isn't she coming? I thought she wanted to see this play."

His girlfriend shook her head, still with that same smile. "Oh, you know Elphie; she's convinced that she'll fail anyway if she doesn't study all night."

Fiyero's brow furrowed deeply – he was really worried. "That doesn't sound like her – I mean, she's not _that_ obsessed. Are you sure she's all right?"

"Yes," said Glinda firmly. "Let's go." And, linking her arm with Fiyero's, Glinda steered them towards the door, telling herself that she was just reading too much into all this.

As the next few weeks passed, she wasn't so sure.

Fiyero had always _liked_ Elphaba. Well, after the party at the Ozdust, at least. He was the only person besides Nessarose to equal Glinda's kindness towards their green-skinned schoolmate. He was sweet and understanding and very generous – why else would he have offered to help both girls learn their way around the complexicated and awfully boring world of politics? He had changed since coming to Shiz, but all for the better; he agreed with Elphaba's convictions, just as Glinda did, and was doing his duty as heir apparent of the Vinkus to make sure that someday all of Oz would be fair and free and just.

And he liked to hear her laugh. Surely that was a sign of his goodness. It wasn't easy to make Elphaba laugh, but he went out of his way to find jokes or trinkets that appealed to her odd sense of humour. It was so _thoughtful_ of him. And Elphaba, in turn, always took the time to share her ideas and ideals with Fiyero, asking for his opinions and help.

Well, she used to. That had stopped a few weeks ago. Belatedly, Glinda realised why.

It was unsettling to realise how much she had missed. She wasn't _that_ blind, was she? Or had she just not wanted to see it? Fiyero clearly hadn't, for as exams passed and people started packing up for home, he kept asking why Elphaba wasn't joining them for lunch or dinner, and seemed irritated when she didn't give a clear answer. It didn't help that when the three of them _did_ get together, Elphaba kept her distance, never as comfortable as she was with her roommate despite his increasingly persistent attempts to amuse her.

One day, Glinda confided in him that it wasn't his fault, that Elphie was just having a spot of romantic trouble, and a flash of guilty hope crossed his face so suddenly that she hadn't been able to forget it for a week. It shook her, deeply, and suddenly Glinda found herself doubting everything – _everything_, right down to the fairytale future she'd always believed in. She hated those doubts because those doubts were poison, ruining the beloved, perfect dreams that she _did not want_ to let go of.

But doubts, being doubts, have a funny way of refusing to be banished, of growing and changing and solidifying into horrible certainty, and so when Fiyero turned up at their door on the last day of term, asking quite seriously if they could talk, she wasn't really surprised.

* * *

At Shiz University, like any other student society, there are a few unspoken rules that everyone knows and follows: Never side with the faculty, respect demands for silence from anyone who's hung-over, and if you stumble across any gossip-worthy information concerning Miss Glinda Upland – whether or not it involves her scandalacious prince or green-skinned friend, whose obvious connections to the Wizard had earned most people's grudging respect – don't tell Boq.

It was, after all, much more fun to see him stumble across it himself.

Unfortunately, a first-year student named Trinna Caylon wasn't aware of this rule. After hearing the news from her excited roommate, who had been trying to study in the hedge garden when Shiz's star couple had walked solemnly past, Trinna was solely concerned with passing it on to as many people as possible to earn herself a little more popularity, and thought nothing of telling the short boy who seemed so _very_ interested.

The moment he heard the words "_Galinda and Fiyero broke up!_" Boq was on his feet, stammering a pathetic excuse to Nessarose before hurrying towards the girls' dorm as fast as he could without running.

Miss Glinda _single_! It was a miracle, one he'd shamefully prayed for since that night at the Ozdust. He'd _known_ it was just a matter of time before she left Fiyero, and now, _now_...

Well, Boq had never given much thought to what exactly would happen now. In his daydreams Glinda would leave the Winkie and come to him, simple as that, and he never considered details of the transition save for deciding that Miss Glinda was far too good and kind to break anyone's heart, no matter how arrogant they were, without due cause. So he blithely assumed that Fiyero had misbehaved to some degree, and that poor, noble Miss Glinda had left him.

It never occurred to him that someone might choose to leave her.

As brothers and cousins and other strong friends were being very gentlemanly that day, helping to carry trunks and suitcases for the ladies who were leaving for home, there was next to no fuss about a boy hurrying through the girls' dormitory. People who recognised him snickered, more so when the panting Munchkin stopped to ask if Miss Glinda was in room twenty-two or twenty-four – it had been over three months since she'd offhandedly mentioned it in conversation and to his shame, Boq could not quite recall.

It was room twenty-two. Not even pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow, Boq knocked – _hammered_ – on the door, and from inside came a surprised, somewhat muffled, "_What_?" which Boq took to be permission to enter.

It wasn't. Evidently Miss Elphaba hadn't been sure if there had been a knock or an earthquake, for she was half up from her seat on the bed, clearly about to answer the door, when Boq barged in.

The object of his affection, the beautiful, composed Miss Glinda Upland, was curled up on her friend's dull blankets, crying her heart out.

Elphaba was defensive. "What do you think you're _doing_?" she snapped.

"I – I came to see if you're all right," Boq said to Glinda, who hadn't even looked at him. Heedless of propriety he continued in, brushing past Elphaba to kneel at Glinda's side. "Oh Miss Glinda, I'm so _sorry_," he said, taking her hand and oblivious to the used tissues clenched inside it. "He cheated on you, didn't he? I knew it, I always knew–"

"He didn't," said Glinda, her voice clogged by tears, too softly for Boq to hear.

"–you caught him, I'll bet, and oh, you must be heartbroken. You don't _deserve_ that, you're so good, so very good and he's _horrible_ for treating you so–"

"He _didn't_," said Glinda, looking up.

"–and you should be happy and loved and worshipped and never _ever_ betrayed–"

"He _didn't_!" she snapped, jerking her hand away.

"–I promise, if _we_ were going out I would _never_–"

"_STOP IT!_" screeched Glinda, jumping to her feet so abruptly that Boq stumbled to the floor. The blonde girl towered over him, swollen red eyes narrowed and a sharp, painted white nail pointing furiously in his direction.

"How _dare _you?" she cried. "I've had _enough_ of this, Boq – don't you _ever_ say that again! _Ever_! How can you be so _heartless_? How can you come here and say _that_ when Nessarose is completely in love with you and _I'm NOT_?"

"But–"

"What were you planning to tell her?" Glinda went on, standing over him. "That she was just entertainment while you waited for me? That's _horrible_, Boq – what were you _thinking_?"

"I – I didn't... But, Fiyero–"

"Don't you _dare_ say another word against him! Fiyero's _good_ and _nice_ and he _never_ cheated on me! He doesn't want to hurt me – he _said_ so! _He SAID so_!"

"But Glinda, I–"

"GET OUT!"

"Glinda–"

"_Out_," snapped Elphaba, who had been watching with disgust. She hauled him up by the collar. "You've done enough damage for one day. You're going to find my sister and end this _stupid_ charade right now and I swear, Boq, if you don't tell her everything that's happened I _will_ turn you into a frog."

And with that, the door was slammed shut in his face.

* * *

Inside, Glinda slumped down onto the bed, completely worn out. Elphaba, who had tearstains drying on her shoulder, said nothing as she sat back down and hugged Glinda, probably for the twelfth time. Her friend clung tight, sniffling, but much calmer than when she had come in an hour earlier. Glinda being Glinda, nothing was ever done quietly, and Elphaba had been overwhelmed by the wails and sobs that her swollen-eyed, blotchy-faced friend had expected her to miraculously cure.

But this curled-up, trembling misery? This she could deal with. This was how Nessa cried. So Elphaba stroked the gold hair and offered tissues, and murmured meaningless comforts until Glinda was ready to speak again.

It didn't take long.

"I never thought it would end, Elphie," she sniffled. "Never."

"I know," soothed Elphaba. "I know."

"And _he_ didn't, either! He didn't, he said so. He said he never expected– Oh, Elphie, he was so _nice_ about it!"

Hoping she wasn't going to dissolve into tears again, Elphaba asked, "He said he didn't want to hurt you?"

"He did," she whimpered. "And he meant it, Elphie, he _meant_ it. He was so sad and so sorry and I can't be mad at him. I want to be, I really want to be, but I _can't_ be because he did the right thing. I can't hate him for not loving me." Her shoulders shook, and Elphaba stretched her arm to grab another handkerchief, which was accepted with a small "thank you".

She blew her nose. Elphaba silently rubbed circles on her back. "Will you be all right?" she asked. "Eventually?" Glinda shrugged and, oddly, pointed towards the bookshelf.

"See that one near the middle? _Noble Nadira_, with the blue-grey cover? Get it, would you? There's something I want to show you."

Shrugging, Elphaba slipped off the bed for a moment to pull said book from Glinda's collection of romance novels. Unlike most of the others, _Noble Nadira_ didn't look very worn. There was only one crease down its spine, and that was strange, since they were kept strictly organised by publication date; it couldn't have been the newest.

"I only read it once," explained Glinda. "I hated it. I wouldn't have kept it but Momsie says a full collection could sell well one day, if I ever want to get rid of them."

Elphaba rejoined her, looking over the cover as she sat down. It was typical of the series: a ridiculously beautiful woman in a long dress sat on a jewelled throne in a fancy, stereotypical castle. A man and a woman stood on either side of her, both also unfairly good-looking, though this second woman paled in comparison to the sitting one, who was obviously Nadira.

"She's the heroine," Glinda confirmed, tapping the picture. "That's Prince Tenek, who rules the other city-state, and that's Lady Palvi, Nadira's sister."

Elphaba couldn't care less, really, but Glinda was calmer now, and if chatter about meaningless books helped, why not? Elphaba nodded. "So why don't you like it?"

Glinda sighed. "It's the only book this author wrote where the heroine _doesn't_ live happily ever after. She's betrothed to Tenek, and they start out hating each other, just like they're supposed to, and then she falls for him, but..."

"He died?" guessed Elphaba, thinking that if Glinda was comparing herself to Nadira, it would make perfect sense. But Glinda shook her head.

"He fell in love with Palvi. Real love, Elphie, the kind that Nadira never felt for him, and Palvi almost convinced him to run away with her because they were so happy together. But Tenek couldn't do that, because he was so good and he'd promised to marry Nadira anyway, because he thought he loved her." (At this point Elphaba was blinking, trying to keep all the relationships straight, but eventually caught up enough to understand.) "In the end," sighed Glinda, "Nadira stepped aside and gave her blessing to the wedding, and she lived alone as queen of both cities."

Elphaba wanted to ask how that worked, if the natural heir to the other city was very much alive, but as it clearly wasn't the point, she waited.

"I was so angry about that," Glinda went on. "I kept expecting something to happen – a last-minute twist, like Palvi turning out to be an evil sorceress or something – but it didn't. And it was so well-written, too; they felt like real people. And I hated it because Nadira was so _good_ and I thought she deserved to marry the prince." Abruptly, she let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "Don't look at me that way, Elphie. I was twelve. And I like happy endings."

"It's all right," her friend replied with a shrug. "You can like anything want – it's not my business."

Glinda shrugged and caressed the book, running her fingertips over the illustration of Prince Tenek. "It's just that now I realise what the author was trying to say, and I feel so stupid for not getting it before."

"What's that?"

Her blue eyes met Elphaba's, and held them steadily. "Love has nothing to do with being _deserved_. I said it to Nessa and I said it to you, but I never really realised what that meant. No one ever chooses who they love, and if two people just aren't meant to be together–"

Suddenly her voice cracked, and with it her mask of calm. Her face scrunched up into harsh lines and she shook, and Elphaba hugged her again, rubbing her arm. Glinda clung to her.

"I thought it was him, Elphie. I _really, really_ thought it was him."

Elphaba shook her head and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Glinda."

"It's not your _fault!_" cried Glinda. "I wish it were. If you'd done something I could blame you and hate you but I don't _want_ to and I _can't_ because it's not your fault you love him anymore than that he loves _you_."

"..._What_?"

"He loves you, Elphie, I'm sure of it. I'm _sure_ of it. He wouldn't say so but he wouldn't deny it and I can _see_ it and I should be happy for you – I should, I should, I _should_. I have no _business_ ruining things for you and I should be sending you off on a date together but I _want_ him, Elphie! I want him so _much_ – I want him to love _ME!_"

And with that, she collapsed into tears.

Stunned, Elphaba said nothing, passively allowing Glinda to sob on her shoulder again, returning the hug automatically as her mind reeled with shock.

Fiyero... could not be in love with her. He couldn't. Glinda was mistaken, she had to be. Maybe she'd convinced herself that this was like one of her stories just so she had a reason to cling to – it would have been harder not to know why, Elphaba guessed. Yes, that had to be it.

But there was a small, horribly guilty part of her that was dancing with joy. Even if Glinda was wrong about this, she actually believed that someone might love Elphaba. _Love _her, green skin and all. Glinda was a romantic and an idealist but she wasn't stupid, and if she believed that her friend wasn't completely repulsive in the eyes of men... well, maybe... someday. Someone.

But not Fiyero. That was... too much to hope for.

Shaking her head, Elphaba shoved those thoughts aside; this wasn't the time for them. Her best friend was heartbroken, and right now that was all that mattered.

"I thought about not telling you," confessed Glinda, hiccupping and oblivious to her friend's deductions. "I really did. I was ready to lie, to tell you it was someone else, and– Oh Elphie, I'm so _sorry_, I'm such a horrid, _wicked_–!"

"You're _not_," snapped Elphaba. "You're not, Glinda, don't _ever_ say that. You're a good person."

"I don't _want_ to be! I want to be selfish. I want to have lied to you and to him so that he wouldn't love you and that's _wrong_ and that's _horrible_ and Elphie, _Elphie_..." Blubbering, she curled up in her friend's arms and said, "How do I bear it? What am I going to _do_?"

"I don't know," murmured Elphaba, resting her cheek on Glinda's hair. "I just don't know."

* * *

Glinda's train home left the next morning. Elphaba saw her off, waving and hugging and promising to write, then walked back to the emptying dorms to finish packing with Nessa. On the way, Fiyero saw her.

"Elphaba!" he called, far down one of the other paths. "Elphaba, wait!"

She walked faster, firmly shutting away the little voice in her head which was gleefully repeating everything Glinda had said to her about Fiyero and love and–

"Elphaba!" he shouted. "Just _wait_, I want to talk to you!"

_No, no, no_ – not talk. She wasn't ready to talk. But Fiyero was a fast runner.

"Elphaba," he said, breathing hard, "can I just–?"

"_No_, Fiyero."

"But–"

"Please, no, not now–"

"Is Glinda all right?"

Blinking, Elphaba turned to him, cursing her heart for hammering so loud.

Fiyero went on, "She ran off pretty fast yesterday, and with the rumours, about Boq and all that..." He waved a hand absently towards the buildings. "You didn't actually turn him into a frog, did you?"

"No," said Elphaba, faintly amused despite her resolve to be firm. She squashed the feeling. "Glinda... will be all right."

Fiyero nodded, clearly relieved and getting his breath back, and hesitated before asking, "And you?"

She stilled, watching him, and desperately wished she knew what that meant. All those fanciful notions of 'seeing it in their eyes' were rubbish – she had no _idea_ what he was thinking. So she went for the bland response.

"I'm fine."

He nodded again, pensive, still watching her steadily. Elphaba squirmed, looking away, and suddenly spun around, saying, "I have to go."

"Wha–? Elpha–!" Fiyero caught her arm. "Elphaba, wait a minute. Just..." He let out a long breath and released her, tossing up his hands and raking fingers through his hair. Elphaba hugged a book to her chest, as though it might protect her from this horrible conversation. "What can I do?" he asked eventually. "Should I write to Glinda, or to y–"

"_No_. Don't." She refused to look at his face. "...Fiyero," she said slowly, "I think it'd be best if you... keep away, for a while. Until this is over. Don't write or... talk, to us."

"'Us'? But you–"

"She's my _best friend_, Fiyero. It'd hurt her just to know you've talked to me. She keeps thinking that you–" But Elphaba sealed her lips before _that_ particular thought could be spilled. "Just _wait_. I don't know for how long."

He nodded slowly, reluctantly, hands in his pockets. "All right," he said. "I will. Come find me when you're ready – both of you. I'll wait. But tell Glinda I love her," he added quickly. "I _do_ love her, just not the way she wants me to."

Elphaba nodded and, before he could say anything heartbreakingly similar about _her_, fled.

* * *

It took three months, after they returned to Shiz, for Glinda, Fiyero and Elphaba to re-form as the comfortable, laughing group of friends who were quietly learning how to help run a country. Six more were needed before Glinda's hurt faded enough for her to make good on her word and make sure her two best friends were happy.

And so, on Elphaba's twenty-first birthday, amidst many, many repeats of, "Are you _sure_ you're all right with this?" from both sides, Glinda Upland sent Elphaba and Fiyero off on their first real date.

Waving goodbye, a tight smile stretching on her cheeks, she replied, "I couldn't be happier."


	7. Lurlinemas

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Seven  
_Lurlinemas_

Year 20  
Winter

The Emerald City was lovely in winter; fluffy snow piled up on the streets and roofs and windows, softening the intense green of stone walls and glass panels until only their edges were visible, peeking out of a white coat. The Ozians who lived in the city – permanently, not the tourists – had a habit of adopting darker shades of green during the winter, and they moved through the whitened streets like little jewels, shiny coats sparkling as they shopped and laughed and enjoyed their lives under the Wizard's protection, looking up at the grand green palace that spiralled into the sky. Several of them were Animals.

Lurlinemas was close, and as tends to happen when money-makers see an opportunity, a dazzling array of themed decorations were advertised, bought, and sprinkled over almost every building. Green was unnecessary, of course, and so all the ribbons and banners were gold, which, when augmented by the multitude of candles that people placed in their windows, gilded the entire city in a soft light.

As her train pulled into the Emerald City Station, Elphaba decided she'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Travelling first class had its benefits, not the least of which were large windows and a private compartment. Glinda had spent most of their ride enjoying the luxury of large couches which doubled as proper beds, and blushed when Elphaba teased her about being rocked to sleep like a baby.

"Well, it's a nice feeling," she defended, neatening her gold hair as they stood up to depart. "Have you seen my coat? I don't think I packed it up again."

Elphaba deftly pulled the now-wrinkled garment from under one of the many pillows her friend had been lounging on. Glinda looked horrified, but as the conductor's whistle sounded for the second time from out on the platform, she swallowed hard and pulled it on, picking up her bags in such a way as to hide as much of it as possible.

There was a knock at the door, and through the glass Glinda was startled, but quite pleased, to see two men in porter's uniforms, each wearing the golden badge of palace servants. Elphaba's eyebrows furrowed as she let them in, then raised to her hairline when the men bowed, said nothing, and picked up most of their luggage.

"Er... thank you," said Elphaba. The men smiled politely and Glinda smothered a giggle at her friend's bewildered expression.

Elphaba was wearing black again, despite Glinda's objections, but she had, at least, paid heed to the last year's worth of lessons from her friend and picked a dress which hung in straight lines, sweeping the floor, and did _not_ cover her throat. Her birthday necklace dangled in front of it like a little star. Glinda said the outfit made her look older, and at the same time less intimidating, which would make it easier to talk with Mister Diggs as an equal. Elphaba said she couldn't care less.

The platform was busy, snow kicked into slushy piles on either side of the footpaths. Glinda and Elphaba followed the porters with only one carry-bag each (Elphaba's held the Grimmerie, which she would not give up under _any_ circumstances), and as the train pulled out, another man – this one dressed as a butler, Glinda noted – approached them and bowed.

"Miss Thropp, Miss Upland," he said formally. "Welcome to the Emerald City."

"Thank you," said Glinda. "And you are?"

"Danal, ma'am. His Ozness sent me to escort you to the palace."

Elphaba rolled her eyes and muttered something about the huge building being a _little_ hard to miss, but Glinda kicked her ankle and smiled brightly. Danal, trained to ignore such behaviour, led them out of the station and down stairs to the road to a stately green carriage. He held the door open and offered a hand to help each lady up the step. Glinda accepted with a smile; Elphaba climbed in on her own.

As soon as the door was shut she grumbled, "This is _ridiculous_. We could have walked."

"Oh, Elphie, that's just the way it is. They're doing their job the way everyone expects. You'll have to get used to it. Right now they just think we're the Wizard's apprentices – wait until you're _officially_ the vizier."

Her friend snorted. "_If_. Nothing's decided. And it's still a silly waste of time."

"I like it."

"_You_ would."

"That's not a bad thing."

Elphaba sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Glinda. I'm just... tense."

Raising one eyebrow, she said, "I noticed." When that failed to amuse her friend (and sometimes it was very hard to tell what _would_ amuse her), Glinda added, "It won't be too bad. We're only here for a week."

"A week with _him_. I don't know what to say to him." Elphaba sighed and slumped down in the comfortable seat, listening to the _clop-clop-clop_ of hoof beats as the cobblestone streets slid past. "I don't trust him. Those letters _sound_ sincere, but this is still the man who started all of our problems, and I can't figure out why. I just can't believe that he doesn't have some other plan going on behind our backs."

"Well, I can," said Glinda calmly. "Really, I can. We've been learning and watching for more than a year now; you know as well as I do that Animals _are_ getting their rights back, and the last mutes signed out of hospital six weeks ago."

"The last ones that are publicly acknowledged," Elphaba pointed out. "Nobody knew that Doctor Dillamond was imprisoned; there could be more."

"Do you _really_ think Mister Diggs is lying to us?"

She hesitated. "...No. But I still can't shake the feeling that this is all too easy. He must have been working against Animals for at least ten years if all those Shiz professors were dismissed because of him – maybe longer, if you consider how long it's been since a non-human was hired. It doesn't make _sense_."

Glinda shook her head, smiling fondly. "Oh, Elphie, you make everything so complicated."

"Do I?"

"He loves you," she said simply. "He loves you and he wants to make up for his mistakes; that's what a parent does. All he wants is to hear you call him 'father', and it hurts to see you use that word for someone else. He'd do anything, don't you see that?"

Elphaba shrugged, the honest answer being 'no'. "Even if that's true, I still don't trust him. I can't see how anyone could spend so long working towards a goal without really caring about it, and I don't see how he could care and then just turn around and ignore it."

"So ask him," said Glinda, shrugging. "Ask him how all this started, and why. You know he'll tell you."

"I'm not so sure he would – at least, not the whole truth. And if I ask outright he'll watch what he says later. I'm not sure what to do."

Glinda leaned over, letting the weight of her head pull her over until she could nudge Elphie's shoulder. "Then leave it for now. We're here to have fun, remember? We're here to make him happy, to make a start on you being a public figure, and to have _fun_. Worry later."

Elphaba chuckled. "Thanks, Glinda."

* * *

The palace was as beautiful as ever, a crystalline structure edged in white and gold, decorated with enough non-green items to make the smooth walls and arched ceilings look soft and welcoming and special rather than dully blending in with everything around them. Danal led them past the public halls and into a more private wing, which they would later learn was where all the Wizard's most important guests were housed. Ministers and attachés were always given rooms on the first six floors – small rooms – while the next four were filled with suites only ever occupied by visiting royalty, governors, and ambassadors; Frex and Nessa, if they ever came to the city, would be housed there, as would Fiyero, probably.

Glinda and Elphaba were lead to the eleventh floor, which was in a tower.

The rooms, each a semi-circle that together ringed the smooth green spire, were massive and lavishly decorated. The beds were big enough to fit three people and each room had four windows that gave a grand, sweeping view of the city. There were private bathrooms with pearl-inlaid handles and marble fireplaces surrounded by polished quoxwood furniture, all elaborately carved with images out of myth and history, depicting the Ozma queens as often as the Wizard. It was fancy and expensive and fragile and special and just... too much.

Elphaba left her cases unopened on the floor and turned to Danal, who had been saying something about there being more than an hour to dress and ready themselves before dinner with his Ozness.

"I don't need to change," Elphaba said. "I need to see the gardens."

Danal blinked. "The gardens, ma'am?"

"Yes. There's something I have to do."

* * *

_Madame Malia Morrible  
1637 BW – 19 AW  
Beloved Headmistress, Sorceress, and Friend  
A Fine Woman  
She Will Be Missed_

Elphaba knelt on the cold stone path, laying down a neat handful of freshly-cut flowers – roses and lilies, though she had no idea if they were appropriate – and looked up at the imposing marble obelisk which stood alone in a quiet corner of the royal gardens, a lonely and solemn tribute to the flamboyant, unpredictable old woman.

Though Ozians always burned their dead, Diggs had set up this monument to house the urn which held her ashes, and personally commissioned artists to engrave not only Morrible's name and epitaph, but an image of her face and torso, arms spread wide in a regal, somewhat domineering gesture of greatness that even included her ridiculous sleeves. Up and down the back and sides of the pillar, short sentences were carved in the stone, detailing her life and her many contributions to Ozian society. She had been married once, apparently, though it had only lasted a year before the man's death, and was the only child of a minor nobleman.

The very last line read: _Discovered and Tutored Lady Elphaba Thropp in the Magical Arts._

The rest was blank.

"I'm sorry, Madame," said Elphaba quietly. "I never meant for this to happen. I didn't want anyone to be hurt. I couldn't control it. I swear, if I could live that day again, things _would_ have happened differently."

Morrible's eyes looked down at her, slanted and cool, and it felt as though they were saying, _Doesn't do much good now, does it?_

Dropping her gaze, Elphaba said, "I _am_ sorry. I respected you, Madame. You gave me a chance when no one else would, regardless of my looks, and no matter what you had planned for me, you were the first person to value me for my talents. For that I can never thank you enough. I'm _sorry_." She let out a tight breath, and her guilt, long since shoved aside guilt, seemed to close in on her from behind, running up her shoulder blades and closing around her ears. Fiercely, she pushed it all away. "I hope you can forgive me," she said in a whisper. "I... really need you to forgive me."

No answer came; no response, no absolution, no faint voice on the wind that reached out from the depths of the afterlife. The snide, cynical part of Elphaba's mind asked her why she'd bothered trying – there _was_ no afterlife. Mourning rituals were useless, there was no one to ask forgiveness _from_, and no point in any case. It was over and done, and her guilt would just serve as a reminder to keep anything like it from ever happening again.

Or so Glinda had said, when trying to comfort her.

Slow footsteps clicked on the path behind her, and after a moment her friend's white hand rested on her shoulder. Glinda had stayed behind to change for dinner, and now wore a long, heavy cloak, as dark and sombre as her friend's, over her gown. She knelt as well, but only long enough to put down her own flowers and say, "Rest in peace, Madame."

Elphaba stood up, brushing snow from her skirt. "I should have been at her funeral. We could have made it."

"She'd understand, Elphie."

Elphaba just shrugged, glancing at the clock tower and at Danal, who waited patiently at the gate of the memorial garden. "If you say so," she muttered, and wordlessly allowed Glinda to fuss over her damp clothes while they made their way back to the palace for dinner.

Once inside, Glinda took off her cloak and, in the bright interior lights, suddenly shone like a small sun. Elphaba blinked, then laughed. "I see you're getting into the spirit of things."

Glinda adjusted her Lurlinemas-gold gown and straightened a single piece of emerald jewellery. "And I see you aren't," she replied, nodding at the dull black. "Really, Elphie, I thought you'd have changed into _something_ better. Are you trying to be contrary, or is this another of those I'm-not-religious-so-I-won't-be-involved things?"

Her tone was light but curious, and so as they followed Danal through a multitude of corridors and stairwells, getting farther and farther from the cold, dead obelisk garden, Elphaba took the question seriously. "Mostly the second, but a little of both. I don't like letting people assume that I believe the same things they do. And it's not like I could wear those colours anyway," she added, waving a green hand.

Glinda said nothing as they scaled another set of stairs, passing by the occasional guest or servant, and critically eyed her friend. When at last they reached the next landing she said, "I think you could. Wear holiday colours, I mean."

Elphaba raised both eyebrows. "If you put me in gold I will look like a Lurlinemas _tree_."

"I meant green, actually – oh, don't give me that look, I'm serious. We'd have to try some different shades, but I think a really dark green would work. Not too blue or too yellow, and not too bright in any case, but it would work. We wouldn't be able to make your skin look white, of course, but we could probably make it less obvious. I thought you'd like that."

Shifting uncomfortably, Elphaba kept her gaze ahead, trying to remember all the twists and turns they had taken; they were on the upper floors again now, and the halls were getting more ornate. She shrugged. "This is your department, Glinda. If you think it'll work, I'll try."

Glinda beamed. "Then I'll take you to a tailor when we go out tomorrow. You've got to start wearing _something_ other than black; we want to make you look like a noblewoman, not an executioner!"

It wasn't that funny, but Elphaba grinned anyway, as distracted as Glinda hoped she would be as they walked side-by-side through the Emerald Palace.

* * *

Only a few walls away, in the oldest and grandest rooms in the entire building, Oscar Diggs was _fussing_.

Ever since he'd pulled off that ridiculous lie about "taking human form" (in order to "take a more active role in the leadership of our fine country", as he'd said in his speech), the palace staff had fallen over themselves to ensure that his personal suite of four grand, lavishly decorated rooms were always in perfect order. The outermost of these was a private dining room, where as yet only his two closest advisors and the Vinkun king had been privileged enough to eat in, and although the fine china was laid out perfectly, with sparkling crystal glasses ready for wine, Oscar was starting to fret that maybe this entire shindig should be moved to a less extravagant room – Elphaba scorned any waste of money. On the other hand, this was one of the few places where Oscar could ensure absolute privacy, and she would undoubtedly be saying things that the general public should never hear.

A last-minute switch would look odd anyway, he decided – as though these guests weren't important to him, which was the last impression he wanted to give. Ever since Elphaba's name had begun to spread among higher Ozian society, largely thanks to Doctor Dillamond telling everyone he knew about how he was rescued, Oscar had done everything in his power to encourage people to connect only good thoughts to the words "Elphaba Thropp" in hopes of building her reputation before formally introducing her to the public. _He_ might not care that she was green, but he was her father, and didn't need to put his future in her hands. People had to trust her, and rumour was a surprisingly effective way of convincing them.

After all, it had worked to discredit the Animals.

Slouching in one of the chairs – he had deliberately arranged for a round table, with every setting identical – Oscar fiddled with his embroidered gloves and tugged irritably at the collar of his ornate robe, which the royal seamstresses, who had been mostly out of work since the Ozmas died, had been delighted to create for their currently-human Wizard. His beloved stovepipe hat was gone, replaced by a cap made of the same reddish-gold material that his coat was. He hadn't wanted these clothes, and certainly hadn't asked for them, but the tailors had been so proud of their gifts, and if it made them happy...

Well, too late to change now.

A thumping sound came from outside his door; the familiar bang of two soldiers striking the ends of their staffs against the floor as a visitor approached – it was a good warning system for him, particularly since no one ever wondered if _he_ might not be ready, and so they never asked. Oscar got to his feet.

The door opened, and Elphaba came in.

She looked... well, green, and that was all Oscar could decipher. She looked calm and collected, but not comfortable, and was otherwise expressionless as Danal formally announced their arrival. Her eyes met his steadily, but without a challenge, and aside from a flicker of exasperation when servants held out chairs for each diner as though they couldn't do it themselves, he had no idea what she was thinking.

More servants came in from the side door, carrying the first course, and Danal's underlings efficiently tidied up the additional two place settings which were obviously not going to be used. Oscar said nothing as they did so, keeping an eye on the doors and waiting until they were firmly shut before turning to his guests and gladly pulling off the itchy hat. Glinda was leaning over, speaking softly to a now-confused-looking Elphaba and pointing at one of the four different spoons. His daughter nodded and picked up the outermost, the soup spoon, then looked up at him.

"Elphaba," he said slowly. "It's good to see you."

She hesitated, then said, "It's... been a while."

He nodded, not having really expected her to return the fond sentiment, and silence reigned for several moments before he asked, "How are you?"

"Fine," said Elphaba. Then she added, for lack of anything better to say, "A little tired. It was a long trip."

Glinda smiled proudly and Oscar asked her the same question. "Oh, I'm fine," she replied brightly. "I don't get as tired as Elphie seems to. I like trains."

"I like trains too," Elphaba said to her friend. "They just wear me out. And I didn't sleep through the whole trip."

"Well, we got up early," muttered Glinda, slightly red, and Elphaba's lips quirked in a half-smile, for a moment looking comfortable as she bantered with her friend. One flicker of her gaze in his direction, though, undid that.

More silence.

"I, uh... I've been looking forward to seeing Chistery again," said Oscar. "The letter he sent last week sounded very eager – well," he amended, "I think that's what he said. His handwriting is terrible."

"His spelling is worse," said Glinda, amused and spooning up some more soup (pumpkin, to be precise; a fancy variation of the most common meal in Munchkinland). "But yes, he was looking forward to this trip. He sends his apologies."

"Has something happened?"

"His sister lost her baby," said Elphaba quietly. "Two days ago. She asked him to stay; she... really needs her family right now."

"Selky?" asked Oscar, startled. "Is she all right?"

"Depressed," replied Elphaba. "But there was nothing we could do. The doctor you employed said she was in good health and there was no reason for her to miscarry. It just happened."

"I'm so sorry," said Oscar, shaking his head and remembering the cheerful little Chimp who had been the sparkle of joy amongst his pets. "I'm so, so sorry." In an attempt to lighten the mood, he added, "I trust that Prince Fiyero didn't suffer a similar tragedy."

Glinda's head shot up. "He was _invited_? Elphie! You told him not to come!"

Elphaba winced. "I thought it would make things difficult. I wanted this holiday to be fun."

"I'm not that _fragile_, Elphie," snapped Glinda.

Her friend looked contrite, and her stiff shoulders softened a little. "All right, I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Yes, you should." Glinda sighed, then looked at Oscar. "May we talk about something else?" she asked. He nodded and, noting that they both had emptied the shallow bowls, pulled the cord to call for their second course.

Once it was delivered and the servants gone again, Oscar leaned forward on his elbows and said, "I've been doing a lot of thinking recently, about the Animal situation."

He instantly had Elphaba's full attention. "It's not going as well as it should," she stated.

"No, it isn't, and I've been trying to figure out why. Legally, there are no more rules to keep them from sharing the same quality of life as humans, but so many little things happen every day anyway and there's no clear reason _why_."

"It's the bias, isn't it?" asked Glinda, sipping her drink. "Humans are biased against everyone else – Quadling, Munchkin, and Animal – and it shows up in things like the Shiz scholarships. They make little rules that aren't actually wrong but keep non-humans out anyway."

"Exactly," said Oscar, smiling at her and praying Elphaba wouldn't point out that this bias was all his fault in the first place. "And I can't make laws addressing every single one of those issues – there are just too many, and being that strict would only cause more problems. It's not a good solution."

Elphaba frowned. "So what are you planning to do? Brainwash everyone into being friends?"

"...Actually, I thought I'd leave that to you."

Startled, and sharing a wary glance with Glinda, she replied, "I don't understand."

Pausing to eat a bite of the richly spiced pheasant, Oscar followed it with a sip of wine and explained, "What the people of Oz need is idealism. Right now they're all perfectly content to be exactly what they are – biased – because they think I can make everything right all on my own. And you don't like that," he added quickly, before Elphaba could open her mouth. "It needs to change. So what I think Oz needs is... a hero."

His grand, flourished proclamation did not have exactly the effect he'd intended. The girls looked at each other, puzzled, and Glinda said, "A _hero_?"

"Yes," said Oscar, not the least bit deflated. "A hero can embody everything that we need the people to be, and to aspire to. They have me, of course–" and he said this without any arrogance or modesty "–but they don't believe they can ever be _like_ me. You, on the other hand," he said, sweeping his arms out to both girls; "you can do that. You can stand somewhere between them and me and symbolise everything that an Ozian should be. Elphaba," he said, trying not to sound too eager, "how would you feel about being the living personification of justice?"

She blinked. "...Inhuman. No one's that perfect."

"You don't have to be perfect, they just have to think you are. If you can embody something that abstract – if everything you do is seen as reasonable, and if everyone in Oz comes to believe that having you settle an issue will _ensure_ a fair ruling – then you can lead the changes you want to make."

Elphaba slowly shook her head, bewildered. "_Be_ 'justice'?"

"Well, I thought about 'goodness'," said Oscar, "but I think Glinda here might be more suited to that. To do what you want with your power, Elphaba, you'll probably have to scare people, or at least overrule them. They can like Glinda – she can make anybody happy – but you'll need to be the image of strength. Then when we put the two of you _together_..." He smiled fondly. "You'll be the greatest team Oz has ever seen."

Glinda looked at Elphaba. Elphaba looked at Glinda. Glinda raised a hand to cover her gaping, grinning mouth, awestruck by the notion, and Elphaba touched her forehead, trying to grasp the extent of Oscar's plans for them. It was... appealing. Her ego was jumping, but her logic was cold. This plan was risky, but at least it was better than the last one.

Slowly, she said, "I... don't know if that would work. You're gambling a lot on public opinion of people – of _me_. How can you be sure they'll think of us the way you want them to?"

"Well, we can never be _sure_, Elphaba, but I think it's our best bet. If people's feelings are part of the problem, then shouldn't they be part of the solution too?"

She shook her head. "This isn't something I'm good at. I don't understand people, and they don't understand me. I can work with rules, not feelings."

"I think that's where I come in, Elphie," said Glinda, delighted. "If you can see what needs to be done, I can be there all the time to soften it and smooth things over. It's perfect!"

Elphaba was sceptical. "What if it doesn't work? At all?" Oscar shrugged.

"You'll still have power, as Grand Vizier, to make laws as you see fit and stop people from acting on their bias. It'll be a lot more work, and you could end up widely disliked–"

"That's not important to me," she declared, though between the waver in her eyes and the sympathetic glance Glinda sent her way, Oscar doubted it. He said nothing.

"It would still work. You'd have all my power, and the chance to go out there and _use_ it. I thought that's what you wanted."

"...It is," she said quietly. "I just didn't think it would be so easy."

Oscar smiled, glad to have pleased her, and for a few long moments there was silence again, but this time, a comfortable one. Then, remembering something, Oscar got out of his chair and moved to one of the dining room's elaborate display cabinets, opening a small drawer near the bottom.

Returning to the table, he offered them each a small, wrapped parcel, Elphaba's flat and Glinda's more cubical. Both pairs of eyes widened, mostly in surprise, and as Elphaba accepted hers, she actually, however faintly, smiled. "What's this?"

"An early Lurlinemas gift," said Oscar. "I've been meaning to give this to you for a while now, and–"

"_Oh_!" cried Glinda, who had already unwrapped hers. "Oh, sir, this is _beautiful_!"

Both he and Elphaba turned to see Glinda practically bouncing as she held up a sparkling gold bracelet, inlaid with blue stones, that even Elphaba could recognise as both expensive and fashionable – exceptionally so, if Glinda's reaction was anything to go by.

"Oh, Your Ozness," she breathed, "how can I ever thank you?"

He smiled widely, parentally, and said, "Call me 'Oscar'."

"Oscar, then – _thank you_," squealed Glinda, putting the bracelet on. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he said, and reached out to tweak a twist in the chain so it fell neatly around Glinda's slim wrist. "There," he said, tapping it, "perfect."

Glinda beamed.

Elphaba opened hers slowly, hoping she wouldn't have to find a kind way to explain that, birthday necklace aside, she wasn't a big fan of jewellery. Then again, the package she held was flatter and harder, but if it wasn't another fancy trinket, what could it be?

It was a picture of her mother.

Blinking, and briefly forgetting that the others were watching, Elphaba reached out to touch the face that laughed behind the glass. Melena was young, and would never grow older, and had just turned to face the camera when the image was captured. Her hands were still holding the small sandbags she had been throwing for a carnival game, and someone fully-dressed was surfacing in the tank behind her. Clearly she had just won, and was jumping around in childish victory, her feet bare and dirty. She looked happy, absurdly so, and it suddenly occurred to Elphaba that, aside from a few candid shots from her time at Shiz (where she had failed all her classes, or so rumour had it), she had never seen such a _genuine_ image of her mother. Everything at home was posed, but this...

Oscar was watching, waiting on tenterhooks to know if she liked it.

Elphaba looked up at him... and _smiled_. A real, real smile, one he hadn't seen since the moment they had met. Her eyes sparkled, face completely lit up with joy. "Where did you _get_ this?"

"I took it," he replied, relieved and hoping his explanation wouldn't cause more trouble. "This was the Munchkinland Harvest Festival the year that the Ozma Regent had me acting as his emissary. I was touring the country as part of that duty and Governor Thropp suggested that if I wanted to better understand Munchkinlanders, I should spend an evening being shown one of your traditional celebrations."

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "He doesn't _like_ the festival. He avoids it every year."

"That's... why he didn't come," Oscar said carefully. "I assume you know that until her death, your mother was officially the reigning Madame Governess."

"She was?" asked Glinda. Elphaba nodded.

"Inheritance passes to me and Nessa through her bloodline; fa–" she cut herself off, remembering Glinda's words "–_Frex_ just did the paperwork because he was better at it, and took over as a regent when she died."

"But before that," said Oscar, "they shared the work, and your mother took on all the social obligations her husband hated. Including giving a pesky visitor a tour of the festival."

Elphaba looked back at the picture, caressing the simple frame and the image inside. "She was having fun," the daughter murmured. "I don't remember her ever having fun."

"That's why I want you to have it," said Oscar, slowly reaching out to tighten her hand around the frame. "For Lurlinemas," he added quickly.

"Thank you."


	8. A Long Awaited Date

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Author's Notes: In this chapter I've given Glinda a record player. Kaylle and I have had extensive discussions about the level of technology Oz has (microphones, cameras and trains, apparently, but no cars or telephones), and I still really have no idea. Assuming that because Oz has magic it wouldn't develop at the same pace as our world, I'm going with a mesh of times somewhere between the 1890s and 1940s.

* * *

Chapter Eight  
_A Long-Awaited Date_

Year 21  
Spring

In all his life, Fiyero Tiggular had _never_ worked so hard for a date.

First there had been the waiting – months of it, keeping well away from both his girls while Glinda's wounded feelings healed. He'd spent most of that time dawdling with school work, improving his marks due to sheer boredom, and hanging around with his drinking buddies – whose company, he'd been startled to learn, was nowhere near as interesting as when he too had been dancing carelessly through life.

Then, after their friendship renewed, there was the caution; on the surface things seemed normal, but there was an undercurrent of hesitance which soured too many conversations – all three of them were so worried about upsetting the delicate balance that they avoided anything that had the slightest chance of hurting someone. Gone were the times when he could playfully muss Glinda's hair or poke Elphaba's ticklish rib – she in particular was always edgy, glancing at Glinda as though the other girl might suddenly shatter into tears, and looking at Fiyero himself like he was some wild animal, alien and unpredictable, wearing carefully blank expressions reminiscent of the days when she didn't trust _anyone_.

And now, after Glinda had thrown a fit, announced that this _could not go on_ and arbitrarily set up their first date as a birthday present, Elphaba was flatly refusing to leave her room.

With a sigh, Fiyero leaned against the wall outside their dormitory and shrugged charmingly at some girl he didn't know as she poked her head into the hallway to see what was causing all the fuss. She blinked once at Fiyero, then smiled knowingly and disappeared back into her room with a giggle.

Tapping his fingers on his arm, Fiyero listened with amusement to the loud, albeit muffled words flying around inside – along with a shoe, apparently, as something hard smacked into the wall behind his head, making him jump. Glinda's voice was unnaturally perky, and as she opened the door, it sounded like Elphaba was calling her on it.

"I've told you, I'm _fine_," Glinda's voice insisted. "Really, I'm over it. I am. I _couldn't_ be _happier_ for you."

Only a brief flash of white arms was visible to him as Glinda literally shoved her friend out, darting back in to close the door as fast as humanly possible. Elphaba tried, of course, but Glinda was quicker, and in moments the lock had clicked and something heavy – probably a chair – was shoved up against the back of it. "Have fun!"

Elphaba kicked the door. "Glinda, this is _ridiculous_! Let me in!"

"No!" she chirped. "Not until at _least_ ten o'clock!" She laughed, and then her record player began churning out a popular love song at a ridiculously high volume. Elphaba stamped her foot, and looked, for a moment, exactly like Fiyero's baby sister, pouting because she didn't get her way. He chuckled.

Elphaba swung round and fixed narrow eyes on him. "_What_?"

"Nothing, nothing," he replied, grinning. And, knowing she probably wouldn't appreciate being compared to a six-year-old, he smoothly changed the subject: "Did she try giving you a makeover again?"

"No," said Elphaba, letting out a deep breath and allowing her shoulders to slump. "No, I

got away with threatening not to wear the dress – ever. She still did something to my hair, though. Lots of spray. I've been coughing all afternoon."

Fiyero tilted his head a little, deciding it wasn't that bad – a few more waves than was natural, but nothing absurd. Glinda seemed to have finally learned restraint; even the dark green dress, bought in the City, was plain enough to suit Elphaba's taste, and really, overall...

"You look nice."

She blinked. "Er... thanks." Tugging self-consciously at the fabric, she quickly added, "You don't have to say that, you know."

Fiyero raised his eyebrows, but shrugged. "If you want," he said, pushing himself off the wall. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, fiddling with a shoulder bag that she clearly hated as they headed towards the stairs – the east stairs, she insisted, even though it was the longer route. "Glinda will be watching out the window," she explained, looking irritable. "I'm absolutely sure of it."

He chuckled. "I'm not surprised."

They went down two flights, and he opened the small, frosted glass door for her before stepping out into the cool air of dusk. It was a fairly pretty evening. The sky was slowly turning purple and the clouds that floated around, leftovers of the morning rain, were edged in bright pink and gold. Breathing in the moist air, Elphaba seemed to relax a bit, and smiled ruefully at him as they made their way down the university's normally picturesque, now puddle-infested path between two rows of huge, stately oak trees. "I _am_ sorry about all this," she said after a moment. "Glinda's... stubborn."

"She means well," Fiyero replied, shrugging as he walked beside her. "She wants everyone to be happy. I don't mind."

"Mmm. I guess. I just don't want her to hurt herself." With a deep breath, she changed the subject. "So now what do we do?"

"Well, I thought we could go to _The Wide Water_. You like lakefood, don't you?"

She shook her head. "Not what we're going to tell Glinda. I meant what we're _actually_ going to do."

"Er... go on a date?"

Suddenly she made a disgusted sound and whirled around, snapping, "Will you _stop_ that?"

Fiyero blinked, faltering in his step. "What?"

"Why are you playing along with this?" she demanded, looking more upset than angry. "If you keep encouraging Glinda's crazy ideas she's never going to get over the fact that you two broke up – and she'll never leave me alone, either. If we come back tonight and tell her it didn't work, she might actually start to face facts. I thought that was the plan."

He stared at her. "You thought _what_?"

Elphaba raised her chin to glare at him, then stopped dead at the look on his face. Fiyero had no mirror, but he was feeling confused, surprised, and hurt, and it probably showed. In half a second, her own expression flashed from irritation to shock, hope, joy, and utter humiliation. Cheeks blushing purple, she sharply turned away.

Fiyero broke the silence. "You thought," he began slowly, "that Glinda deluded herself into this just because we broke up?"

She wouldn't look at him, gripping the handbag as she bit her dark lip. "...Yes?"

Groaning, Fiyero turned away, and walked a few steps across the stone path as he ran a hand through his hair. "Elphaba, that was _months_ ago."

"It _hurt_ her," defended Elphaba, arms folded. "Badly. You weren't there to see her cry."

"No, I was there when it happened. She figured me out before I'd even said a word, and she was the one who decided to step aside. I _know_ it hurt her – I hate myself for it. Do you really think I'd make it worse by lying?"

She clenched her jaw, but when she spoke, it was quiet. "No. But it was the only thing that made sense."

He shook his head, feeling more and more hurt creep up through his chest. "Glinda's stronger than you give her credit for. Did it _never_ occur to you that maybe she was right about me?"

Elphaba hesitated. "Once. The first time she told me."

"And you decided she was making it up."

"I... didn't think she was lying," replied Elphaba carefully, glancing up from the ground to meet his eyes for half a second. "I just don't see how she could be right."

He shook his head, staring at her, then turned on his heel and continued down the path. "Come on. _The Wide Water_ tends to fill up after sunset and I want to get a good table."

His abruptness must have startled her; it took a moment before her boots started thumping on the stone, and then she was beside him, matching his stride as they walked towards the north gate. He kept his gaze straight ahead, but through the corner of his eye he saw her peering at him, brow furrowed, and after a minute she said, "You're angry with me?"

"I'm... annoyed. How could you think something like that?"

"It made _sense_," said Elphaba, and her voice was strained with some feeling he couldn't identify. "Why would anyone want to date _me_, Fiyero? _Look_ at me."

"I am," he said, a little gentler. "And I don't care what colour your skin is. I'm not _that_ shallow. You, of all people, should know me better than that."

Her eyes widened, and they walked in silence for a while as she processed this. For Fiyero, it wasn't that complicated; he'd gotten over her most noticeable quirk a long time ago, and was quite proud of himself for it. It was impossible to _forget_, of course, but green was... kind of sexy, actually. Exotic. Exciting. Extremely weird, yes, but this was Elphaba – _everything_ about her was strange, and for some reason he found that incredibly attractive.

So the fact that she'd just denounced all his hard work as a farce was honestly insulting. Of _course_ he was serious. How could she doubt that?

(It would be quite a while before Fiyero would realise that he'd simply assumed _she_ would want to date _him_. By then, however, it was the middle of their third successful date and the question was pretty much rhetorical, but it embarrassed him – not an easy feat – to realise just how arrogant he actually was.)

As they passed through the wide, wrought-iron gate on the edge of Shiz campus, Elphaba, whose mind had been travelling a very different path, said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."

He let out a long breath, feeling marginally better. "It's all right," he said, and put on a fairly genuine smile. "Let's just... forget it, all right? This is our first date, and your birthday. We're supposed to have _fun_."

A warm, shy smile spread across her cheeks. "Thank you."

He shrugged and then grinned, slinging one arm over her shoulders as they walked into Shiz town. She tensed a bit, apparently embarrassed and quickly glancing at the other people scattered around the street, but did not dislodge him. She might even have moved a little closer.

"Fiyero?" she asked softly, after a moment. "What do people _do_ on dates?"

He blinked. "Er... just spend time together, I guess. Having dinner's pretty standard, if you're interested."

"You sound like you had to think about that," she observed.

"I _did_. I've never had to put it in words before."

Elphaba chuckled. "And I _do_ like lakefood, by the way. I didn't know any place in town served it."

"Not on the student side," he replied, lightly pressing her shoulder to guide her left through an intersection. "Too lowbrow. It's out west, by the lake."

"Appropriate," said Elphaba. "...A little macabre, but appropriate."

Fiyero laughed.

They were in the fancier part of town now, passing fewer students and more of the small town's upper class people, rich enough to dress well but not important enough to be snobbish. It was a very clean place, largely made up of smooth white stone that seemed to glow a little in the evening light, with wide, shallow streets free of any debris or horse refuse. _The Wide Water_ dominated one side road, fronted by large panels of blue glass and soft white lights. The steps up to the door were elegant grey tiles that twisted artfully between shrubberies, and the whole place screamed of money.

Elphaba looked slightly intimidated. But, being who she was, she lifted her chin, tossed her hair back over both shoulders, and said, "Well, let's go."

"Ladies first."

The restaurant's interior was even more thematic; shimmery blue cloths draped the walls between large, lit-up aquariums that held scores of colourful fish. Most of the lights were soft greens, reflecting on the cloth which rippled in a breeze that drifted in from huge windows on the other side of the room, the ones that opened onto Shiz town's tiny little lake. At this time of year it was a bit too cold to let in so much air, and Fiyero could see the irritated looks on some diners' faces – he had little doubt that before it was completely dark, those windows would be closed and the patrons would content themselves with looking at the water through the great glass wall.

While Elphaba paused for her customary stare-down of everyone who gaped at her, Fiyero sauntered up to the hostess, a blonde woman in vivid red who tended to flirt with all her wealthy guests. "Evening, Tanara," he said in a friendly voice, "I hope you have a good table for me. It's a special occasion."

"Oh?" she asked, eyes flickering to the green lamps which shone on Elphaba. "And what might that be, Your Highness?"

"No titles," he reminded her, reaching a hand backwards towards his date. She walked up without taking it. "Today is Elphaba's birthday."

Tanara's eyes widened, as expected, when the green woman stepped into the normal lighting of the reception booth, and then her brow furrowed. "Elphaba _Thropp_?" she asked.

That was odd, because she didn't look like a Munchkin, and few Ozians bothered to memorise the names of every member of every noble family, particularly the ones who had never set foot in social circles. Elphaba just nodded. "Do you have a table?"

"Ah – of course. This way, please."

They were led right past the main floor, where polished tables sat close together with four chairs each, and to the far part of the glass wall, which was shielded from general view by smaller tanks and lattice dividers. Elphaba looked embarrassed, particularly when it became clear that all these tables were for two, and avoided the hostess' gaze. Noting this, Fiyero decided not to follow his mother's fierce etiquette instruction and did _not_ hold out her chair.

"Thank you," he said to Tanara.

She smiled. "Your waiter will be here shortly."

Once they were alone, Elphaba began to fidget. It was subtle, nothing he'd normally notice, but she was shifting her shoulders and fingering her hair, uncomfortable. It confused him. "What is it?"

She looked up, a slight purple blush on her cheeks – again. "Now what?"

"Now we talk. Unless you'd rather eat in silence."

That earned him a smile. "No. But... what about?"

He shrugged, leaning back in the smooth wooden chair. "Anything you like. There aren't rules for this sort of thing, you know." He paused. "We could probably invent some, but..."

Elphaba laughed gently, leaning forward on the table. She looked relaxed as she waved a green hand in the air. "I wouldn't know how."

"To make _rules_?"

"To pick them. You know I've never been on a date before."

Fiyero shrugged. "Every date is different," he said – then paused and amended, "That's not true, sometimes they're all the same. Depends on the people."

"The girl you're with."

"Yeah–" He caught himself in time to keep from listing names; he doubted that Elphaba would want to hear it any more than the others had, even if she was the exception to most rules. Instead, he said, "I don't know what to expect from you."

She looked strangely flattered.

Then suddenly her eyes narrowed, focusing on something behind his back. "The waitress is staring at me."

Fiyero turned around just in time to see a blushing redhead duck into the artfully hidden kitchen door. He winced and said, "Ignore it, Elphaba."

She scowled. "I try."

Fiyero glanced around, trying to think of a distracting topic, and his eyes landed on the nearby fish tank. "Do you think there really is such a thing as a sea?"

Though she knew exactly what he was trying to do, Elphaba didn't object – it was a subject she was interested in. "I don't know. I hope so. The myth had to come from somewhere, after all, and it's not like anyone has ever crossed the deserts." She looked at him. "You?"

"It'd be nice if it _was_ real, but I sort of hope it isn't. I think I'd be scared of it," he replied, and her eyes widened in amused surprise.

"Scared?"

"I'm a rotten swimmer," he confessed. "My father spent a small fortune building and maintaining a swimming lake in our castle and I've refused to even go near it."

She broke out in heavy, deep-throated laughter – her happy laugh, as opposed to the sharp cackle that was slightly hysterical. He liked this laugh. "What a waste," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Not really. Everyone else uses it. My mother and sister race each other every second week, and in midsummer everyone and their servant uses it to cool down. Just not me."

"But why?" she asked, curious. "What are you afraid it?"

"I really don't know," said Fiyero, and he shrugged, enjoying the ease with which he could confide in her. "But if I can't make myself step into a pool where I can see the end and bottom, I don't think I'd be able to go _near_ an ocean."

"That's a shame," she said. "I'd love to swim. Maybe not in an actual sea, but it's something I've always sort of wanted to learn."

"Why haven't you?"

Her mirth cooled a bit. "It 'wouldn't have been fair to Nessa'," she replied.

"Ah."

Elphaba shrugged. "It's not like there are many lakes in Munchkinland anyway, and I would _not_ want to learn somewhere like here," she said, tapping her nail on the glass through which the water was starting to turn black. "No privacy. I don't want to be watched when I make a mistake and drown."

"You should come to our castle someday," said Fiyero lightly, ignoring her pessimism. "The swimming room is enclosed, and too shallow to drown in."

She smiled, but whatever reply she would have made was lost as their waitress, the same red-haired girl who was now trying very hard _not_ to stare, approached with a notebook. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure," said Fiyero, who didn't need to look at the wine list. "The sixteen-forty Pertha Vineyards, please – unless you don't like that, Elphaba?"

"It's fine."

"A bottle of that, then," said Fiyero, smiling.

The waitress nodded and scribbled a note, but hesitated, eyes flickering to Elphaba, and there were a few long seconds of silence in which it was awkwardly obvious that she should have already left. Suddenly she burst out, "Did you really _meet_ the _Wizard_?"

The green girl blinked. "...Er... yes."

"Oh!" squeaked the waitress, covering her mouth and bouncing a little bit. "Oh, I read it in the papers but I just couldn't believe– oh, you're so _lucky_! What's he like?"

This was, of course, totally inappropriate behaviour for a staff member, and the hostess was watching from afar with a look of horror, but Elphaba, who had been expecting her four-thousand-and-fourth green question, was pleased. "He's nice. A bit eccentric, but he does come from another world, after all. He loves Oz," she added, surprising Fiyero, "and everyone in it. He wants to give us the best lives he can."

Fiyero leaned back in his chair, watching Elphaba closely while the waitress squealed her thanks and apologies and hurried off to tell all her co-workers, whom he was sure were waiting in the kitchen. Elphaba didn't seem bothered by her generous portrayal, and once he had her attention Fiyero asked, "He actually said all that?"

She nodded. "The first time I met him. He also said he thinks of all Ozians as his children," she added with a wry smile. "That one hasn't come up again."

"That's not really what I meant," said Fiyero, leaning on the table. "I'm used to you hating him. Did that Lurlinemas trip change so much? You actually like him now?"

"'Like' is going a bit far," she defended. But then, softening, she explained, "It's hard to keep hating someone who's doing so much for me. And I know he's not a bad person, he just... he seems so naïve, and at the same time he can get people to do almost anything just by showing his face and smiling. It's absurd, but... not worth hate. He means well."

Fiyero hesitated, knowing his question was risky, but asked, "And as your father?"

"Blood means nothing," she replied coolly. "Frex Thropp raised me. I think of him as my father."

Something in her voice made Fiyero pause, and after a moment he smoothly changed the subject.

* * *

Dinner passed without incident. Elphaba and Fiyero ordered vastly different meals and within a half hour were cheerfully stealing bits and pieces from each other's plates. It turned out that though Elphaba loved the taste of shellfish, the cracking sound made whenever she cut a piece of the animal's shell was enough to turn her stomach, and so Fiyero, in a fit of gallantry, ordered a different platter entirely. She argued, of course, and then tried to pay for at least her share, but he was having none of it.

"_I'm_ the prince here," he reminded her, "and I'd rather spend this money on you then let it sit in my dorm waiting for another pick-pocket."

"You were robbed?" she asked, startled, and listened intently to his explanation, which became more amusing as it went on (it involved a birthday party, two Munchkins, and a turnip), with the result that she didn't realise he'd signed and paid the bill until they were walking out the blue glass door. She glared. "Cheater."

He laughed, shaking his head as they walked down the steps. Elphaba was acutely aware of his guiding hand resting lightly on the small of her back. "Now what?" she asked.

"Now we decide what we're going to do next time," he replied, and a warm glow spread from the centre of her chest, tingling in the tips of her fingers. Then he grinned and added, "Unless, of course, I'm going to have to drag you out of your room again."

Pretending to scowl, she aimed a light kick at his ankle. He limped in mock-agony for several seconds before Elphaba, grinning, gave his shoulder the smallest possible push and he stumbled, caught off-guard. The startled look on his face was more than worth it, and she burst into fully-fledged laughter.

Fiyero just shook his head, smiling fondly at her as he straightened up. "I've been waiting for this," he said, almost to himself.

She quieted, brow furrowing. "For what?"

"You," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "This day – well, night," he amended, gesturing to the starry sky. "This date."

She felt her cheeks heat up. _Waiting?_

Flustered, she glanced away, and then the obvious question fell from her lips: "_Why_?"

"I like spending time with you."

There were a million things that Elphaba wanted to ask – why her? Why now? What was it she did that won his attention? His approval? Why was she interesting? _Why_ didn't he care about the green?

But nothing was said, of course, because she couldn't say it, so she just smiled shyly and hoped he understood.

If putting his arm around her again was an answer, then he did.

They walked back to Shiz quietly, listening to the faint music and drunken laughter of other students enjoying their night out. Elphaba was only half-relaxed, worrying that they'd be seen by some prone-to-teasing classmates, but none came, and by the time they were back on the dark campus it was almost easy to walk so close beside him, feeling warm and tingly and so very _happy_.

Then they approached the dormitories.

A few lights were on – it wasn't that late yet – screened into little glimmers by the leafy trees above them. Fiyero slowed to a halt before they were properly in sight, calm and at ease, letting her slip out from under his arm.

Elphaba found herself folding her arms, biting her lip, almost defensive in her sudden nervousness. The annoying little handbag slipped from her shoulder, and Fiyero absently pulled the strap back into place.

She didn't thank him, she asked, "Now what?", but for the first time that night, she knew the answer. She had heard enough stories and sneaked enough glances at Glinda and Nessa's silly romance novels to know how the perfect date was supposed to end, and her insides twisted into a knot.

"Now I'm supposed to kiss you," said Fiyero.

So casual. Couldn't he hear her heart pounding? See her shaking? Or was he joking, laughing off something he would never do? She was _not_ normally this insecure, and she scolded herself fiercely, telling herself that whatever he thought, she couldn't change it, and it would be no fault of his if he couldn't make the leap from touching her hands to touching her lips, and...

And he was standing right in front of her, one hand on her cheek, fingertips brushing her ear. He stood still for a moment, just watching her, and the only thought in her mind was, _Oh, Oz, he is going to kiss me_.

But he didn't, not then. Elphaba was stiff and tense, and maybe that was why he leaned forward only a fraction before pausing and looking her in the eye. "What?"

"I don't know how to do this," she confessed in a blurry rush. "No one's ever told me – I never learned what to... I won't do it right."

Fiyero dropped his gaze, and it looked like he was fighting some very inappropriate laughter. "You know, Elphaba," he said in a steady voice, "it's really not _possible_ to get a kiss wrong."

She wasn't sure she believed him, and it must have showed, because then he did laugh, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I promise," he said. "Just... close your eyes."

It was hard not to peek. In the darkness, Elphaba could feel his breath, and sense the mass of his body so very close beside her. It was tense and terrifying and–

And then it was wonderful.

* * *

Room twenty-two was dark and quiet when Elphaba opened the door. Glinda was curled up on her bed, reading their sorcery text by candlelight, and glanced up with a smile as her friend came in. She took one look at Elphaba, who was leaning quietly against the door with a small smile on her face, and said, "You kissed him."

She looked up. "No," she replied, then hesitated. "...He kissed me."

Glinda waved it off with a smile. "Details. So you had fun?"

Elphaba nodded carefully. "Thanks, Glinda. For everything."

She shrugged. "Happy birthday, Elphie."

A few minutes later, Elphaba had quietly finished getting ready for bed. She said goodnight to Glinda, who had already curled up, but didn't really hear the reply; she was wrapped up in memories – her own, wonderful memories, so new and fresh and warm that she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

She never noticed the bin full of slightly damp tissues.


	9. Graduation

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Author's notes: I snitched the name "Meru" from _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine_; it's the name of Major Kira's mother. I always liked it.

* * *

Chapter Nine  
_Graduation_

Year 21  
Summer

"_Elphiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee!_"

The green girl jumped, dropping a book as she leapt clear off the bed. "Glinda? Glinda, what is it? Are you all right?"

"Elphie, I can't _choose_!" wailed the voice from the bathroom. "The blue one is brighter and fancier but it's two shades darker than my eyes and the white one is just too _pale_!"

Beat.

Groaning, Elphaba slumped forward and banged her head against the wall. Air hissed out through her gritted teeth. "Of _course_ it's pale," she growled. "White is _always_ pale."

"But so is my graduation hood!" replied Glinda, flying out of the bathroom and completely oblivious to her friend's irritation. She reached out to grab her plain black robe from where it lay with Elphaba's, over a chair, and held it up against her body. With her free hand she tossed the broad white sash over her shoulders, to roughly where it would be hanging the next day. "See?" she said, holding the lacy white dress next to it. "This would make everything either black or white, and I'm so pale that I'll look all washed out!"

"Your hair is yellow," replied Elphaba, dropping back down to her bed. "Stop worrying. You look good in everything."

Tossing aside the garments with more drama than was strictly necessary, Glinda scowled. "You're not _helping_, Elphie."

"Why don't you take a break and decide what you're going to do with my hair, then?" her friend suggested dryly, picking up the book. "I know you've bought me another green dress – I saw it hanging in your wardrobe."

Indeed, a corner of the tell-tale garment bag from Glinda's favourite tailor was peeking out from between her most fluffy dresses. The blonde girl narrowed her eyes. "You _peeked_?"

"I didn't have to. You _always_ buy me dark green outfits. You're really taking this 'image' thing too far."

Appeased but hardly satisfied, Glinda plopped down on her own bed and began rummaging through half-packed jewellery boxes. "At least you've come to your senses about letting me dress you."

"It's hard to say no when you _literally_ burned the rest of my wardrobe," Elphaba replied with a completely straight face, pretending to read as she continued the banter. Glinda chuckled.

"I am sorry. I was aiming for the candlesticks. It's not my fault all your hideodious frocks are – well, were – so flammable. Anyway, I was thinking gold flowers."

"Sorry?"

"For your hair, Elphie, for tomorrow. I have fake flowers in here somewhere, and I'm sure they're a _dark_ gold, too, so they'd match your hood-scarf-thingie very well." She waved a hand absently towards Elphaba's unworn robes and the hood that was indeed both white and gold, representing a double major in sorcery and history, respectively.

"Er... I'm not so sure about _flowers_, Glinda. I'm not a flowery sort of person. I don't even like them."

Glinda slowly raised her head, arched one eyebrow, and pointed to the small vase sitting on their desk, which held five bright red poppies. Elphaba blushed. "That's different. They were a gift. It'd be rude to throw them away."

"Elphie, he's your boyfriend. Has been for months now. You're _allowed_ to like it when he brings you flowers."

Muttering something about how "last week wasn't even a special occasion" (though it was, being the day they'd all received their final results, confirming that they could graduate – and besides, he'd brought some for Glinda, too), Elphaba surrendered and buried herself in her book, still blushing. Glinda took the chance to very casually pull out a stack of new makeup compacts and secretly compare her friend's purple cheeks to the different shades of powder.

It had been a few months since Elphaba had formally agreed to accept the Wiz– Oscar's offer, and there had been next to no fuss about it. He'd kept his word, done everything she'd demanded and quite a bit more, and as he predicted, there was still an awfully long way to go. Fiyero's languid teaching and their own extra classes in political science had given both girls a very basic grasp of their upcoming jobs and enough self-confidence to try, and Elphaba was more or less satisfied with the moral integrity of the government she was about to become part of.

On the other hand, she just wasn't comfortable with the title of "Grand Vizier". Knowing that they would be living in the Emerald City in just a few weeks – after a little time spent at home with their families – unsettled her, and she skirted the details as best as possible. Glinda, on the other hand, had no problem with the as-yet quiet fame that came from being one of the Great Oz's apprentices, and gleefully looked forward to more. With that in mind, she simply _refused_ to let either of them go out there tomorrow looking anything less than their best.

Discarding three shades of purple and keeping two, she began to check the silvers.

For a while, comfortable silence reigned in room twenty-two. The clock ticked faintly as afternoon sunlight began creeping across the floor. Once finished with her powder-checking (mainly because she thought Elphie might be getting suspicious), Glinda returned to sorting out their jewellery and packing her belongings in the trunks that her family's servants were ready to take home. Her parents had arrived at Shiz several days earlier, and after spending almost every waking moment with their precious little girl, had gone into town together to 'look around' – hoping, Glinda knew, to run into somebody important. Said person would, without doubt, be treated to many proud stories about how _their _daughter had an apprenticeship with the Wizard of Oz, and was a personal friend, too! If it weren't so flattering (and if she hadn't been doing it herself), Glinda might have been embarrassed.

At about half past two, when Glinda was once again in front of the mirror, a tapping sound started to echo quietly but persistently, through the room. It was a moment before either Elphaba, who was reading, or Glinda, absorbed in decision-making, noticed.

_Tap, tap, tap!_

"Chistery!"

Glinda looked up. Hovering outside the window was her favourite of the winged Monkeys, wearing a brand-new white coat, courtesy of his tailor brother Tripthy. He waved and grinned as the girls finally noticed, and Elphaba, almost tripping over herself, hurried to let him in.

The little Chimp landed neatly on the floor, agile as always, and straightened up with a smile. "Good day!" he chirped.

"Hello, Chistery," Glinda said quickly, taking his hand and tugging him to the mirror. "Will you do me a favour, please?"

Elphaba sighed as Chistery nodded. "Happy to."

Glinda lifted the fabric again and asked, "Blue, or white?"

His face slid into a frown of confusion. After a moment he pointed at each and said, "Blue, white, black," with perfect accuracy.

"Oh, sorry, that's not what I meant. Do you think this will look better if I wear blue–" she demonstrated, holding the dress and robes together "–or the white?"

Chistery's face cleared as he understood, and he tilted his head in a very Monkey-ish fashion, considering.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," promised Elphaba, but Chistery shook his head.

"Happy to, Miss Elba," he replied, grinning as he deliberately used her old nickname, probably hoping it would make her smile. It did, and after a long moment Chistery looked up and said, "Blue is nice, Miss Glinda."

She smiled. "Then I'll wear that one. Thank you!"

"You are welcome!"

Elphaba just shook her head, amused. "So how are you, Chistery?" she asked. "Have you and your family made a decision yet?"

"Not all my family have decide yet," he replied, his shaky grammar still apparent. "I and Selky and Mirba and Rishty all want to go with you. Tripthy and Shelba not. They like Doctor Dilmond better." He said this with a weak sort of scowl.

Smiling fondly, Elphaba nodded, unconcerned by the lack of finality from the Monkey clan; it wouldn't be hard to escort them to or from Shiz if anyone changed their mind.

Before she could ask more questions, though, Chistery straightened up in a manner that looked vaguely familiar – like, she later realised, the self-important stance of the official messengers who came those few times that Diggs sent something special to Elphaba, something that couldn't go through normal mail. Like Monkeys. "Miss Nessrose has a message for Miss Elba," he said proudly.

Elphaba fought to keep her features calm and pleasant. "Nessa shouldn't be sending you around like a servant, Chistery. It's wrong."

"Happy to, Miss Elba," the Monkey said cheerfully, one wingtip hitting a small stack of papers, which he then hurried to pick up, still chattering. "Miss Nessrose was sad at stairs and said it important to tell you to come down to meet train soon."

Elphaba jerked upright. "What time is it?" she demanded, looking at the clock. Hissing and muttering fiercely under her breath, she darted across the room and scrambled to pull on some shoes. "I'm sorry, I've got to go – our father's train gets here at three and we're supposed to meet him. _Damn!_"

She threw a second left boot against the wall, scowling as she dug through the jumbled pile of footwear. Glinda deftly pulled out the right one. "Here," she said. "Don't worry, Elphie, you'll make it – those trains are always late anyway. Just remember, I won't be here when you get back; Shenshen and I are going shopping. For the last time," she added, looking both surprised and a little sad.

"I'll see you later, then," said Elphaba, pulling the door open. "Thanks, Chistery!" she called, and was gone before her friend had even drawn breath to respond.

"Welcome, Miss Elba!"

* * *

Waiting below, at the base of the stairs, Nessarose Thropp was _not_ happy.

Admittedly, this wasn't a rare occurrence anymore, but today, with the stress of graduation and the unsettling realisation that _this was it_, that suddenly her easy, class-oriented life at Shiz was over, Nessa's nerves and constantly-simmering resentment had boiled over into full-on outrage. How _dare_ Elphaba be late for their father's arrival? Had she no respect at all? No decency? Or was she starting to think she was better than everyone else, what with her special apprenticeship and invitation to live in the Emerald City?

Of course, this wasn't true, and intellectually Nessa knew better, but she was in no mood to be reasonable. _She_ was doing the right thing, as best she could in this hideous chair, but she couldn't wheel herself all the way to the station in time – she would work up an awful sweat, spoiling all the time and effort she'd put into her hair and clothes, and Father would _frown_.

Worse, what if Boq saw her?

She'd been so careful, this past year, to make sure he only ever saw her at her best – her happiest, most beautiful, most generous – that she couldn't stand it if things fell apart now. She was desperately hoping that the nostalgia everyone seemed to be having over graduation was going to work in her favour. Surely Boq would find himself remembering the good times they'd had together – dancing at the Ozdust, writing essays, comparing class notes... well, that was about it, really, but they'd had fun, right? He'd said so, every time they said goodbye. "It's been fun, Nessa." True, he hadn't always been enthusiastic, but he couldn't have actually _lied_, could he?

...Could he?

Nessa closed her eyes, forgetting Elphaba's lateness for a moment as she felt herself sink back into the misery that seemed to be constantly haunting her life. _What_ was so bad about being with her? What about her was so unattractive? What, in short, was _wrong_ with her?

Was it just the chair – was that _all_? Was Boq so blind that he couldn't see past that one _stupid_ little fault? It was her worst feature, yes, but hardly a fatal one – she had to believe it wasn't a fatal one. ...But if not that, then what?

It wasn't just Boq, either. Though Nessa never doubted that the tall Munchkin was the only man for her, she had to admit she was hurt to realise that in all her time at Shiz, no one else had ever looked her way twice. She had several gentlemen acquaintances, even friends, and none of them had ever shown anything but polite friendliness towards her. Ever. Why not? Was she too shy, too hesitant? To weak or pathetic? Did she unknowingly give off all the wrong signs or words or whatever it was that men were looking for? Or... was she really not as beautiful as she'd always thought?

Twisting in her seat, Nessa found her reflection in one of the mirrors that lined the small foyer of the women's dormitory. _No_, she thought, reassured, she _was_ beautiful. Father had always said so and now, in this new blue dress, with her jewelled shoes and braided hair, wasn't she even _more_ beautiful than the day Boq had asked her to the dance?

If nothing else, Nessa knew she was prettier than a lot of the other girls around, but somehow, they all had dates anyway. So _many_ of them, too – girls with bad hair or greasy skin, big shoulders or flat chests. There was even one stocky girl who had to weigh twice what Nessa did, and she'd been steadily dating a good-looking boy for months. Months! It didn't make _sense_. Why was Nessarose, the pretty, clever governor's daughter, _always_ being overlooked? Why did she have to miss out on the parties, the dates, the hugs and the kisses that everyone else her age had experienced?

Thudding footsteps echoed on the floor above, interrupting her sulking. Elphaba appeared, rushing down the stairs two at a time (rather gracefully, Nessa noticed, for she was never able to help but watch people's feet as they moved), breathing hard and looking a mess. Her hair was tangled, one sleeve rolled up, but she was also... brighter, somehow, than the girl sitting stiffly in the mirror.

"You're _late_," Nessa scowled. "If Father's already there–"

"We'll make it," said Elphaba. She took hold of the chair's handles and began pushing them out the door. "I'm sorry, I lost track of the time."

Nessa didn't acknowledge this, or even thank her for the customary push. She sat back as they made their way outside, arms folded, her thoughts lost in a harsh tangle of resentment.

Even _Elphaba_ had somebody. That might be what stung the most. Elphaba was her _sister_, the one who was supposed to be her best friend in life. She was the one who'd once said, "You'll be like me – you'll make the best of your life alone," but she _wasn't_ alone; she had Fiyero. Oh, she was discreet about it, probably trying to shelter her crippled little sister, but Nessa knew. She might have informed the world at large out of sheer spite if it weren't for her jealousy and worse, incomprehension. _Elphaba_ was _green_. Nessa loved her sister, really she did, but it was unfathomable that someone so obviously abnormal could win attention – especially romantic attention – before pale, pretty Nessa did.

So she said nothing as Elphaba wheeled her across the university grounds and to the train station, which lay between their campus and the town. It was fairly busy today, but not impossibly so, and Elphaba got them there a good ten minutes before their father's train was due to arrive. Nessa relaxed, smoothing her skirt, and was almost ready to forgive her sweating, worn-out sister when a voice called, "Elphaba! Elphaba, over here!"

Fiyero. Of course. Nessa couldn't see him, being well below the head height of the crowd, but she knew his voice, and her sister suddenly began smiling. Without asking where Nessa wanted to go – though she didn't actually care – Elphaba wheeled them down the platform to where Fiyero stood, hands in his pockets, grinning. "Nessa!" he said cheerfully, finally spotting her. "Haven't seen you in a while. What are you doing here?"

"We're here to meet our father," Nessa replied as Elphaba sat on the bench and caught her breath. "He was meant to arrive yesterday, but some business came up and delayed him."

"Mmm, the merchants' strike, I heard," said Fiyero, and it irked Nessa to realise that of course he would know that; it affected the Vinkus, too. "Well, I'm glad you're here," he told them both, leaning against a pillar. "My family's an hour late and I've no idea how much longer they're going to be." His eyes lingered on Elphaba, taking in her dishevelled appearance, and his brow furrowed. "You all right?"

"Tired," she said in a heavy breath, stretching her legs and rubbing one calf. "It's hot," she added, as though she couldn't be tired for any less forgivable reason. Nessa felt rather guilty.

"Come on, let's get you a drink," said Fiyero, offering his hand. "There's a shop at the end of the platform. We'll be right back, Nessa."

So she wasn't invited. What a surprise.

* * *

With an iced, bright yellow fruit drink in hand, Elphaba walked slowly back towards her sister, idly chatting with Fiyero about just how absurd the stories in gossip magazines actually were. The news stand had several up on display, including one which steadfastly claimed that he was dating Glinda again (though she wasn't named outright, just referred to as "a lovely blonde sorcery student"), despite repeated denials on both their parts.

"I really wish you'd just let me tell them all that I'm dating _you_," said Fiyero, who had been annoyed by this for a while. "It'd make life a lot easier."

She winced, apologetic, but said, "Please don't. They'll think it's political and... I think that might be worse."

Stealing her drink and taking a sip, Fiyero shook his head. "Won't happen; they all think I'm a brainless cad, remember? No one's going to believe I'm dating you just because you're supposedly the Wizard's apprentice."

Elphaba hesitated, wondering if she'd be able to tell him the whole truth – that she _did_ care enough about what people thought to be humiliated when they assumed she was too repulsive to be wanted for anything other than politics – but then suddenly a high, happy little voice cried out, "Yero, Yero, Yero, Yero, Yero, Yero, YERO!"

They both turned in surprise, Fiyero with a sudden grin on his face, and Elphaba was just quick enough to see a short blur of long hair and blue sundress run towards them at full pelt before it crashed into Fiyero's waiting arms, squealing, "_Yero!_"

Fiyero laughed, lifting the little girl – who had to be his sister, Meru – and spinning her in the air. Elphaba stepped back and saw that beyond them, by the road which ran parallel to the platform, the rest of the Tiggulars were just stepping out of their carriages.

"How's my favourite sister?" asked Fiyero, slowing their spin and putting her down, kneeling beside her. Meru giggled.

"Yero, I'm your _only_ sister!"

He faked an astonished expression. "You know, I think you might be right!" Then he grinned and tickled her, and Meru laughed again. Watching, it was painfully easy to understand why he had turned down a trip to the City just to avoid missing her birthday.

Feeling intrusive, Elphaba backed off entirely, walking over to take a seat on the bench beside Nessa and watching quietly as Fiyero greeted his family. He'd described them all to her at one point, and it was easy to put names to faces: The absurdly thin, grey-eyed man was his father, Lord Haral (King, technically, but the Vinkuns never used those titles among themselves), and the tall, striding woman was his mother, Lady Amadel. She was the one Fiyero freely credited with every gentlemanly manner he had. "Don't let her fool you," he'd once said. "Mother's very nice, but if she wants to teach you something, you _will_ learn."

As Amadel stepped back from the greeting hug her son had given, she blinked and said, "You _cut_ your hair? Fiyero!"

He shrugged, sheepish. "Sorry, Mother."

"Promise me you'll grow it," she said, and it couldn't have sounded more like a command if she'd shouted. Her husband chuckled, touching her shoulder and saying something quietly in her ear. Amadel softened and sighed, shaking her head. There was a hint of a smile on her face, which grew warmer as she looked at Haral, and Elphaba was suddenly reminded of something else Fiyero had said: "My parents are _embarrassingly_ in love. I think we're lucky it's just the four of us."

Meru was still clinging to Fiyero's hand, and when he crouched down to greet his youngest brother, four-year-old Dian, she exclaimed, "He doesn't _remember_ you!" and scowled like it was the most horrible thing in the world. Fiyero mussed her pretty hair and said he didn't mind – she remembered, didn't she?

That left only the teenage brother, Narjin, who looked sombre – sullen, almost – as he greeted Fiyero. There was little else to say about him; apparently he and Fiyero had never been close, being of extremely different character, and from the perfunctory way they shook hands, it was clear that not _dis_liking each other was about as good as things were going to get.

Then the unexpected happened; Fiyero turned around and waved for both Thropp sisters to come and join him.

Nessa, who had been pretending to watch the notice board for updates on the delay of their father's train, jumped and looked at Elphaba, who was suddenly hesitant. After a moment more, she hissed, "Elphaba! They're an important family! Father would be disgraced if his _own daughters_ didn't–"

Elphaba quickly grabbed the chair handles, and Nessa fell silent, smiling politely as she was wheeled over. By this time the other Vinkuns had caught sight of them and, predictably, turned to make their standard greetings. Meru and Narjin were staring at Elphaba's skin, though Narjin was valiantly pretending not to, and little Dian cowered behind his father's leg as Nessa's big, scary chair approached them.

All in all, not a very auspicious introduction.

Everyone was courteous, of course, as Fiyero said, "These are my _friends_–" (with only a very, very slight emphasis on the word, accompanied by a glance at his girlfriend) "–Elphaba and Nessarose Thropp. Their father's arriving today, too."

"Ah, Governor Thropp's daughters!" said Lord Haral pleasantly, reaching out for their hands. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you," Elphaba said softly, briefly shaking his hand.

"And to you," continued Nessa, sounding, for a moment, like the leader she was soon supposed to become. "It's a shame we've never met before."

"It is. I understand you're soon to take your father's office?" asked Haral, glancing between the sisters with faint uncertainty, quite likely recognising which one of them was actually older. Nessa answered as though she were an only child.

"My mother's, technically, but not right away. Father and I prefer that I start slowly, working together..."

This formal, polite conversation went on for a little while, and might have lasted a lot longer if Meru, who was still holding her brother's hand very tightly, hadn't peeked out from around his elbow to quietly watch Elphaba; the green girl only noticed after several minutes. Curiosity overcoming her, Meru tugged on Fiyero's hand until he crouched down again and let her whisper into his ear.

Then he laughed. Meru hit him with her small hand, embarrassed, but softened when Fiyero replied, "Why don't you ask her? She won't mind, I promise; she's very nice."

Meru shook her head fiercely, shy and curling up against her brother's shoulder. "Elpha–" he said, then broke off, chuckling. "Elphaba, she wants to know if being green hurts."

"_Meru_!" shrieked their mother, but Elphaba was just surprised. That was a new one.

After a moment she shook her head, looking at the girl and trying hard not to be menacing. "No," she said. "It doesn't hurt." Then, because Fiyero was waving her over so obviously that she couldn't politely refuse, Elphaba took a step closer and knelt down an arm's length from Fiyero's little sister.

After another moment, during which Nessa's frown deepened, Meru whispered something to her brother again, and Fiyero repeated, "She says you have pretty hair."

Maybe this wouldn't turn out so bad after all. Elphaba's face broke into a smile and she said, "Thank you... I... I like yours, too."

Meru didn't answer, but she brightened and giggled, biting her lip. The other Tiggulars, except for Narjin, smiled, and Elphaba felt the wonderful glow that comes from knowing that, finally, you've managed to do something _right_.

* * *

It was almost another hour before Frex's train finally arrived from Munchkinland. By then the Tiggulars had, with Fiyero's apologies, left for the university, where they, like Frex, were being housed in vacant staff quarters in deference to their rank. Glinda's parents, like everyone else, were being accommodated in town.

As usual, Frexspar was dressed in his maroon robes of office, complete with a fur cap that must have been killing him in the summer heat. His entourage was small, limited to two servants and an assistant, all of whom were soon busy trying to extract a large crate from their compartment before the train took off again.

"Nessa!" he beamed, striding towards them. "My beautiful little girl. Look at you – graduating, with honours! I'm so _proud_ of you."

As always, he knelt beside Nessa's chair, and she was happy again, reaching out as best she could to hug him. "Father," she said, with all the warmth that was missing from her last month's worth of conversations. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

"I would never miss this day, my pretty, never," said Frex, stroking her braided hair and kissing her forehead. "I always knew you could do it."

Then, as had happened every time they'd seen him since first coming to Shiz, Frex looked at Elphaba to offer much less enthusiastic greetings. Unlike every other time they'd met, though, she wasn't standing respectfully behind Nessa's chair, but sitting quietly on the bench. She was perfectly polite, though, nodding and saying, "Hello, Father," and one couldn't help but notice that her chosen position put her closer to Frex's eye-line than ever before.

"Elphaba," he said in return. "Congratulations on finishing... a double major, was it?"

"Yes. History and sorcery."

"Hmm," he said. "Well, well done."

It says a great deal about Elphaba that those gruff, dutiful words sparked such a happy glow in her heart. She smiled widely, honestly, and didn't mind in the least when Frex had the servants open his huge box to reveal a graduation present for Nessa – a new, cushioned, stately-looking red chair. "Fit for a Madame Governess," declared Frex proudly, so loud that everyone still at the station could hear.

Nessa was delighted, of course, and even allowed her father to lift her up _in public_ just so she could try out the new chair immediately. It was for indoors only, too fancy to be exposed to the elements, and had to be boxed up again for now, but Frex promised that it would be ready for her to use at the ceremony. Then the Thropps made their way back to campus, in as cheerful a fashion as they ever really managed.

* * *

At Shiz University, graduation ceremonies were always a lavish affair. Being the oldest, largest, and most prestigious university in Oz, it had a tendency to flaunt, just a little – particularly when anyone from its only real competitor, Quox College, was there to see. But, to be fair, Shiz was also the best: It was always _Shiz_ alumni who were making breakthroughs in whatever field they had chosen to study, and always _Shiz_ professors whose opinions were sought with regard to sensitive matters by any of the nobility. No other institute could boast a sorcery programme, either.

Therefore, it was no surprise that Shiz was a very rich establishment, nor that its wealth was sometimes put to very flamboyant use.

There were things to be said for practicality, though.

The morning was bright blue and sunny, and the ceremony was being held out in the picturesque gardens, where row after row of polished wooden chairs were laid out neatly on the grass, all facing an equally polished podium, behind which every single professor sat, dressed in their finest academic apparel and proudly applauding every student who walked by.

Headmaster Arren, an elderly Bear who had once taught chemistry, had begun the day with a fine, somewhat long-winded speech about how wonderful all this was, how proud he was of them all, how thankful and so on and so forth. Few people were actually listening.

Elphaba, Nessa, and Fiyero were sitting patiently beside each other near the back of the student section of the audience – Glinda was a row further back, with the other students surnamed "U" – and all were getting just a little too warm as the sun baked down on their long black robes. The brightly-coloured sashes that hung down everyone's backs were made of silk or satin, and all were slightly reflective, so that for all that this was their day of glory, every student save for those in the very front row spent most of the ceremony squinting.

Still, they had a wonderful time. Fiyero in particular was extremely proud of himself, and Nessa – once she had lost sight of Boq's bright red sash – was glowing from the depths of her new chair. Glinda had changed her mind about her dress several times more before rushing to put on the blue, which made Chistery, who was sitting on the far side with two of his sisters, very happy.

What very few people realised – and Elphaba certainly wasn't among them – was that an uninvited guest had appeared on campus at the very last minute, startling the entire faculty, and that he was now sitting very comfortably in the front row of the audience, right in front of the stage, his black stovepipe hat glinting in the sun.

King Haral recognised him, of course, and paused to offer surprised greetings as his own family took their seats in the same row. Frex, on the other hand, said very little, for though he was _certain_ that they'd met before, he just couldn't put a name to this face.

Oscar Diggs just smiled happily. It was nice to be out again.

When at last every student surnamed A through to S had received their diploma – and by now the audience was so tired of clapping that each student received only half-hearted efforts by anyone other than their families – it was finally Elphaba's turn. She and Nessa and Fiyero had been quietly led from their seats by a staff member (Glinda waved merrily from behind), and were waiting in line off to one side of the main podium.

Then she saw it.

The hat. She would know that hat anywhere.

"_He_'s here," she whispered harshly. "He didn't tell me he'd be here!"

Fiyero followed her gaze to the little old man who sat quietly in the front row, and for a moment he blinked in surprise. _That_ was the Wizard? He was so... _short_.

"Maybe he thought you knew," Nessa offered lightly, surprised by the reaction.

"Maybe he wanted to surprise you," added Fiyero, touching her shoulder. Elphaba softened.

"Maybe. You're probably right," she sighed. She wasn't angry, exactly, but she hated being caught off-guard. It didn't help that Diggs was sitting right next to her fath– to Frex, and it was possible that he might – just _might_ – recognise one of the few physical traits that little old man shared with his biological daughter.

But there was nothing she could do, not now, and she _refused_ to let anyone ruin her day of glory. She, the freakish green daughter of Munchkinland, had just earned one of the most difficult qualifications Shiz offered, and in a moment's time she was going to walk across that stage, head held high, and accept the papers which proved her worth _to the world_.

When that moment came, she was shaking. Whether out of glee or terror, she had no idea.

Elphaba walked, feeling the eyes of the crowd on her, hearing the odd noises as they recognised first her name, then her skin, then the rare strip of white fabric in her hood. She felt defiant, as though this were a challenge to stare down, but then Doctor Dillamond broke tradition and stood up from his chair to applaud her specially.

She smiled, feeling better, and was just reaching with dignified grace for the diploma Professor Arren held out to her–

–when a whooping cheer burst from the front row.

Diggs was clapping loudly, shining eyes fixed on her and his face full of pride. The crowd, roused from lethargy by Dillamond's gesture, mindlessly followed along. The applause grew louder, if not by much, and Elphaba paused, hand extended towards the scroll, feeling something warm well up inside her chest. This was... amazing. People were clapping for _her_. No jeers, no mutterings – _cheers_. For a moment she thought she could fly.

She never really noticed Frex. His eyes were only for Nessa, anyway.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Elphaba waited on the other side of the stage for her sister, then Fiyero and Glinda, all of whom were grinning like fools as they clutched their graduation scrolls. Glinda squealed, heedless of the impatient staff member who was trying to herd them away, and launched herself at Elphaba, hugging her and knocking their caps askew. She attacked Fiyero next, then Nessa, and then, as the staff lady all but shoved them out of the way of the other students, Fiyero quickly tugged Elphaba behind one of the hedges and kissed her until they both were dizzy with glee.

* * *

Things wound down a bit after that. A wine-and-cheese luncheon was held for all guests, graduates and faculty members in Shiz's vast dining hall, and with sunlight streaming through the wall-like windows, it felt like they were standing in a massive gazebo.

Glinda sipped her wine with pleasure, happily dividing her attention between Fiyero and Elphaba, her parents, their parents, and other friends like Shenshen and Pfannee, whose families briefly joined the Thropp-Upland-Tiggular circle while the girls became all nostalgic and the others looked on with fond amusement.

Frex and Lord Haral, having known each other for quite some time already, quickly found themselves talking about business, a conversation which Nessa tried very hard to be a part of even though she lacked some relevant knowledge. After a while the two leaders took pity on poor Mister Upland, who was standing aimlessly between them and the chattering women, and included him in their discussion. Social climber that he was, Glinda's father – whose name was Alden – was delighted to join in.

Kerra Upland, meanwhile, was reminiscing over the rim of her wine glass. "I just can't _believe_ it," she sniffled, looking fondly at her pretty daughter. "It seems only yesterday my little Linny was learning to walk and now... oh, just _look_ at her! A sorceress! Invited to live in the _Emerald City_!"

Lady Amadel was too busy trying to keep her daughter still and her toddler quiet to give a real answer, and after a moment she gave up entirely, summoning one of her servants to take both children taken outside. Elphaba, however, snickered.

"'_Linny_'?" she whispered. Glinda's cheeks turned red.

"Oh, _don't_. Elphie, don't– I mean, Elphaba. Elphaba, _please_ don't start using that name. I grew out of it when I was _ten_."

Elphaba's grin just grew wider, in direct proportion to her friend's eyes.

"Don't you _dare_!"

"What's that, dear?" asked Kerra Upland, turning to the girls. Glinda put on a pretty smile.

"Nothing, Momsie," she said charmingly.

"Linny was just telling me how much she's missed that nickname," Elphaba replied lightly.

"_Really_? Oh, that's so _sweet_," gushed Kerra, stroking Glinda's hair. "I was worried she might be embarrassed, but – oh, darling, that's so _good_ of you!"

"I'll _get_ you for this, Elphie," Glinda hissed the moment her mother's back was turned. "I swear I'll get you. I'll make you wear _ruffles_ and _ribbons_ and... and... and a little _bow_, too!"

Elphaba cackled.

Fiyero, meanwhile, had been drifting between the two groups, barely interested in his father's rambling about the merchants' strike but not wanting to join the women's conversation either. He was just about to slip away and fetch another drink when Frex abruptly shifted topic by saying, "She's going to make an _excellent_ governor, isn't she?"

The other fathers nodded politely and complimented Nessa, who beamed. "Top scores in political science, you know," Frex continued proudly. Then he asked Lord Haral, mostly out of politeness, "Your son also majored in politics, didn't he?"

The Vinkun nodded and, spying Fiyero, waved him over with a big grin. "By necessity, of course – he always hated his lessons as a child," Haral told them cheerfully. "Remember that, son? Never could get you to sit still. And now you're a _graduate_." He clapped Fiyero on the shoulder, chuckling. "A _graduate_! From Shiz, too! I never thought I'd see the day, my boy, _never_."

And, still chuckling, he turned to Alden Upland, who was saying something about how all this was making him feel old.

Fiyero, far from amused, looked hurt.

It only lasted a second, a fleeting moment in which his guard was down, but it was enough for Glinda and Elphaba, who had long since tuned out of motherly ramblings, to notice. They exchanged a worried glance. Fiyero saw it and sharply turned away.

"Fiyero–" said Elphaba.

"Don't," he replied and, unnoticed by the parents, strode off towards the refreshment table. The girls followed.

"Fiyero, he didn't mean it," said Glinda, touching his arm gently. Fiyero snorted, taking refuge by leaning back on a wall, out of sight.

"Yes he did."

"He didn't mean it _badly_," she amended. "He's your father, he loves you."

"Sure he does, but he still thinks I'm stupid," said Fiyero, taking a glass of the strongest wine he could find. "They all do. They're _stunned_ that I managed to stay here this long, let alone pass all my classes."

"They shouldn't be," said Elphaba quietly. "You're not stupid. You never were."

He said nothing, just drained the glass.

"You're _not stupid_."

"Remember what I said about those magazines, Elphaba? It's the same thing. I've made my reputation and now I'm stuck with it."

"That's not true," said Glinda. "It's hard, yes, but we can change it."

"Prove them wrong," implored Elphaba. "Look at you; you have your degree, you're the heir to the throne – _prove_ them wrong!"

"How? I have no power in the Vinkus until after my father dies, and it's not like he'll turn any important problems over to _me_."

She floundered, then said, "Come with us. To the City. Help us _do_ something."

Again he said nothing, but this was a softer silence; a thoughtful one. Glinda rubbed his shoulder. "I'd feel a lot better if you were there," she said quietly. "We haven't learned half of what we need to know even _with_ all your help."

He huffed, but it was half-hearted. "D'you know Narjin thinks _you've_ been tutoring _me_?" he asked.

"Your brother strikes me as moody little brat," Elphaba said. "I don't care what he thinks. We know better."

"And your family loves you anyway," said Glinda, giving him a little hug. "Come on, please?"

With a small smile, Fiyero looked up, slowly nodding. "I love you both, you know that?"

Glinda hugged him fully while Elphaba just smiled back. Fiyero lifted her hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. I know how you feel."

* * *

They were halfway back to their parents when Headmaster Arren, puffing, pulled Elphaba aside and said in a hushed, awed voice, "The _Great Oz_ has asked to see you."

She was expecting that. "Where is he?"

"The dining suite across the hall," said Arren, waving his paw towards one of the plain little doors set in the only real wall. Elphaba thanked him and walked towards it, the others following, but they paused when the Bear coughed and said, "Miss Thropp, I am... not sure your friends are invited."

"Of course they are," she said simply, and kept right on going. Glinda hid a smile and filed away that tone for future use; did Elphie _realise_ how commanding she sounded? How vizier-like?

The dining suite was a modest room full of immodest furniture, designed as a place where important faculty members could entertain any guests they deemed worthy. Oscar was alone inside, but a man with a red beard and casual clothes was standing near the door, and Elphaba was sure other guards were hidden nearby.

As soon as he saw her, the Wizard of Oz all but _bounced_ over to the door. "Elphaba! Oh, Elphaba, look at you – _congratulations_!" he exclaimed, hugging her despite all previous evidence that she didn't like to be touched. Elphaba endured it with good grace.

"Thank you," she said, extracting herself. "I didn't realise you were going to be here."

"Couldn't resist. No one in my family ever got _into_ a university before, much less finished a double major – with honours! I'm so _proud_ of you. Here!" he said, turning around to pick something up and rising with a huge bouquet of white roses. "These are for you. And Glinda! My dear Glinda, good to see you again; these are for you."

With a jolly smile, he handed her an equally large bunch of roses, these ones pink. She thanked him brightly before turning and tugging on Fiyero's hand, pulling him forward and into their little circle. "Mister Diggs, this is Fiyero Tiggular. Fiyero, this is Mister Diggs," she said.

"Oscar," corrected the Wizard, reaching out to shake hands. "Good to meet you – the girls talk about you all the time. Congratulations to you, too, son!"

Fiyero grinned and returned the handshake with pleasure, his earlier moping having ebbed a bit. "Same here. Glad to meet you."

Beaming, Oscar looked over them all. "This is wonderful," he declared, hands on their shoulders. "Look at you! Three corners of Oz, all together at Shiz. _Wonderful_."

Elphaba's humour cooled. "It's a shame you're not a Quadling," she said.

"Oh, didn't I mention?" Oscar asked in a tone that made Glinda sure he had forgotten nothing and had set this up as the perfect moment to deliver his news. "Two Quadlings have been presented with the Emerald City Scholarship; they're already enrolled for next year. One plans to major in literature, I think, and the other in law."

For a moment, Elphaba blinked, speechless. "Really?"

"Yes," he grinned.

She broke out in a smile, and gave a little laugh. "That _is_ wonderful," she said. "Thank you."

"Least I could do," Oscar replied with a shrug. "Really, it's amazing how many little injustices are hidden away in our great Oz – I'm finding more every day! There's so much to do, it's so good to know I'll soon have your help."

"And Fiyero's," said Glinda politely, but as a statement, not a request for permission. She had learned that tone from Elphaba. Oscar barely noticed.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, reaching out to shake Fiyero's hand again. "Two heads are better than one, eh?" After a moment, seeing their puzzled expressions, he amended, "Well, four are better than three, right? ...It's a saying," he explained.

"From your world?" asked Glinda, intrigued.

He nodded, and at their prompting, began to talk about other, similar expressions that he'd never heard again since leaving home. The world beyond the deserts fascinated all three Ozians, and so they chatted a while longer – a comfortable, easy conversation that Fiyero had no trouble becoming part of. It was like he was always meant to be there.

Elphaba, rather uncharacteristically, was quiet, listening more than she spoke. It occurred to her that of all the wonderful scenarios she'd dreamed up from the moment Morrible praised her talent, this had never been one of them. Not even close. What's more, she realised that she was honestly looking forward to all of this: the City, the power, even the title.

This was her chance to make good. She was not about to waste it.


	10. The State Ball

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Ten  
_The State Ball_

Year 21  
Winter

Frexspar Thropp hated parties.

It wasn't that he was a spoilsport, or a belligerent old grump, but he simply couldn't _stand_ busy, noisy gatherings that did nothing but waste his time. As the Regent Governor of Munchkinland, there were always a thousand things for him to do, and spending several hours sipping dry drinks and forcing smiles for vacant-headed noblemen grated on his nerves. True, sometimes it wasn't all that bad – not when he could find people to talk business with – but today was Lurlinemas, and no one but he was in the mood to discuss funding replacements for old bridges. Had he the choice, Frex would have left long ago, but his job required him to keep the favour of these otherwise-useless rich people, and walking out of their giddy little celebration could undo months of subtle work.

As he stood back and dully watched the swirl of people laughing and dancing in the Emerald Palace Ballroom, Frex allowed himself a moment to be sentimental, to remember his dear, dear Melena, who had – among many other things – always delighted in taking social duties off his hands. She would have _loved_ this.

In all fairness, it was a good party. Apparently that the blonde girl, Glinda, had organised it, and it was clear to anyone who watched that she was absolutely delighted by its success. The white marble ballroom, already etched with glimmering green mosaics, had been festooned with the gold banners and flowers of Lurlinemas. The tall glass doors and windows that faced snowy gardens reflected a blurred mesh of strong colours as the guests moved about, the feathers and glitter on their clothes adding texture to the air. A string of tables lined one side of the room, opposite the orchestra, and standing gloriously in front of the north wall was a raised dais on which the Wizard's great throne sat.

The Wizard himself was not in it, but had instead descended one level, in his emerald cloak and silvery-white suit (as well as his favourite disguise of a kindly old man), to join the banquet table on the secondary dais, where Elphaba, Glinda, and their Vinkun friend – Fiyero – were sitting. Someone (Glinda, of course, though Frex neither knew nor cared) had taken up the less-than-original but fairly effective idea of dressing them all in exactly the same shades of green and silver, and though they each wore it in vastly different styles and proportion, it effectively made them seem like a unified whole.

That was probably the point. Though it was Lurlinemas and, in name, that was what everyone had gathered to celebrate, the Wizard had never thrown such a party before, and made no secret that this ball was actually a public welcome for the three newest members of his inner court – his dazzling little apprentice, the prince, and most unexpectedly, his new vizier.

Vizier. _Grand_ Vizier, nonetheless. Frex shook his head, glancing yet again at his strange green daughter, who was sitting quietly in her tall, pointed hat. The Great Oz had announced it himself just that afternoon, standing on the Grand Balcony that jutted out from the palace and over the city's vast central square. Frex and his dear Nessa, under the impression that they had been invited only for a special Lurlinemas celebration, had been out seeing the sights when it happened, and were just as surprised as any when the Wizard had grandly introduced his apprentices as _Lady_ this and _Lady_ that. He'd given a brief speech on the need for more vigilant justice in their country before suddenly giving Elphaba – _Elphaba_, of all people – the responsibility of enforcing it.

It was, Frex thought, absurd. He would never doubt the Wizard's wisdom, of course, but he felt it was quite possible that their great leader was being too generous. Those girls were a mere six months out of university – what did they know about legal justice? They hadn't even studied the subject properly, as Nessa had – were they going to rely on their Vinkun friend for instructions? He seemed erratic at best, if what Frex had heard was true, and what would happen when tribal interests clashed with real justice? And really, what was the point of appointing _sorceresses_ to any position of authority?

Obviously there was one, or else the Wizard never would have made such a decision, but Frex wished he knew what it was. Nessa was of a mind to ask her sister outright, but Frex doubted that she knew any more than they did. He admitted that Elphaba was very talented, magically, and had been congratulated often enough to know that this level of talent was rare, so he quite reasonably deduced that sheer power must be the qualification the Wizard had been looking for, and decided – in a fairly resigned manner – to trust that their wonderful leader knew what he was doing. At least it gave her something useful to do now that she was finished with school.

Alas for Frex, he would probably never get a satisfactory answer, mainly because he would never know that the job had been tailored especially for Elphaba. That being the case, it was probably good that he gave up his ponderings for a while and turned his attention back to what was actually happening around him.

Nessa was doing him proud, sitting very straight in her polished red chair as she spoke politely with some Gillikinese noblemen, and in a very difficult attempt to stop coddling his little girl, Frex was staying out of earshot, letting her charm the northerners on her own while he sipped his drink and looked around for entertainment.

There were many Animals in the crowd, though they were vastly outnumbered by humans, and the large dance floor was currently rather empty, for the orchestra was playing a very fast song, almost like a jig, for three pairs of Cats who were spinning, jumping, and kicking the steps far faster than any human could manage. It was an impressive sight, and when it was over Frex joined in the applause without feeling obliged to do so just because people were watching. The Cats made a special bow to Elphaba (because, he would later learn, she had pushed the orchestra into playing it for them), and then Miss– _Lady_ Glinda stood and requested a particular reel – an unusually rural style, at least for this sort of white-tie affair – saying that they ought to give humans a chance to keep up. This earned some warm laughter and good-hearted cheers from the crowd, and Glinda skipped lightly down to the dance floor with the Vinkun boy in tow.

It was honestly amusing to watch as they and a dozen other couples – all also young people – stumbled around in a laughing struggle to remember the steps, and then, as soon as everyone had settled into a rhythm, scrambled to keep up with the ever-increasing tempo. Elphaba's friends weren't the first to trip and fall or simply give up, but they weren't the last, either, and as the music reached its climax, they applauded brightly for the two couples who had made it through the whole thing.

Normal music resumed, then – waltzes, mainly – and between subtle glances in Nessa's direction (an older woman and a young man had joined the discussion, both of whom were looking fairly impressed), Frex found himself watching the lower dais, where Glinda had flopped dramatically into her seat, draining a glass of water and miming exhaustion. The others – including the Wizard – laughed kindly, and they all smiled and chatted for a few minutes before Fiyero stood up again, clasping a green hand and trying very hard to wheedle its owner into a dance. Elphaba shook her head several times, smiling strangely all the while, and then, when Glinda lightly shoved her, gave in. Frex watched with surprise as the daughter he'd only ever known to be quiet and surly laughed outright, and joined the tide with somewhat clumsy, but obviously well-practiced steps.

"Father?"

Startled, Frex turned to see Nessarose rolling towards him in her stately chair. The other daughter was instantly forgotten. "How did it go?"

She beamed, but kept her reply modest. "I think they like me. Lady Rodmilla said I seemed a lot more mature than any other twenty-five-year-old she's known."

Nessarose was nineteen. Frex laughed loudly, kneeling beside her chair. "Do you know who told her your 'age'?" he asked, curious and planning to gather compliments when he corrected them. Nessa's smile faded.

"She guessed. They all know Elphaba is twenty-one."

Frex scowled, not because he disapproved of his green daughter's sudden fame – which he did – but because it was making Nessa unhappy. "Don't worry, my pretty," he said, taking her thin white hand. "You know what the people are like; they love anything they can gossip about. But you're soon to be Madame Governor, and that earns _respect_."

Usually, Nessa would have smiled at that and moved on, but this time she just kept on looking sad. "Why didn't she tell me about this, Father?" she asked quietly. "She used to tell me everything. Now it's always _Glinda_ who knows things," she added with a faint sneer. Frex squeezed her hand and then, after making sure no one saw and spoiled Nessa's new reputation, leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"If Elphaba thinks she's found better friends, that's her mistake. One day she'll look back and realise just how special you are, and then she'll be sorry."

"But what if she _doesn't_ come back?"

Frex hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor where Elphaba and the Vinkun were dancing by, slow enough to talk at the same time. In all honesty, he hoped she wouldn't, and justified that it would be the perfect solution – city life was appealing, after all, and maybe she could be of real help to the Wizard with her magic. They all knew she wasn't needed in Munchkinland, eldest child or no, but if Nessa _wanted_ her...

"Of course she will."

Finally reassured, his daughter smiled again, and Frex softened as he saw in Nessa's face the soft curve of lips and cheek that was copied exactly from her mother. Melena's smile had been more quirky, more mischievous and childish, but the beauty was there, and for Frex that made his younger daughter more precious than ever.

As they moved around the room for the next twenty minutes, 'bumping into' several important people and charming them all with Nessa's delicate wit, Frex found himself pondering again, this time sadly. For the thousandth time he asked the Unnamed God why his sweet, beautiful child had to have been born a cripple. The notion that milkflowers might be responsible had long since been banished from his mind as an old wives' tale; all he thought about was that it should be _Nessa_ out there on the dance floor, laughing with a handsome partner. _Nessa_ deserved it, and was forever denied. Why?

Absently, Frex looked past their current circle of listeners and back at the floor. Directly across from him was the white dais, where Lady Glinda, now quiet, was resting her chin in her palm as she gazing around with a sad – or was that longing? – expression. Between them were the whirling dancers, but Elphaba, and her partner, were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

There is something silly, selfish, and altogether much too _fun_ about sneaking out of a party being thrown in your name. It's even better when you don't escape alone, but are goaded and almost dragged by an accomplice who is more fun-loving and much less rule-abiding than you are. Add to that the fact that you've escaped into the picturesque palace gardens, at night, when they are empty but for moonlight, and that this person is looking for an excuse to kiss you, and, well, things become just about perfect.

Elphaba was not enough of a romantic to realise that this setting was stereotypical to the point of cliché, right down to the occasional winter rosebush nestled between snowed-down hedges, but Fiyero knew; he was perfectly aware of their surroundings and couldn't care less. Day after day of being flatly forbidden to so much as _hold_ _hands_ in public would grate on anyone's nerves, and Fiyero was a very tactile person – even if it was just a handshake, he had to touch people. The discretion she insisted on was frustrating, and quite frankly, the only reason he'd led her into the gardens was because he knew there would be a number of shadowed corners in which it was safe to kiss her.

Elphaba certainly wasn't complaining. Months of practice had bolstered her confidence in her own kisses, and taught her a few of Fiyero's quirks as well, all of which made her blush furiously just at mere thought. For one thing, his neck was sensitive; if she brushed the back of it with the pads of her fingers – like she was doing now, with her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders – he would inevitably shudder, groan, tighten his arms, and kiss her harder. As she liked that very much, his neck suffered a fair amount of tickling.

Of course, he'd picked up a few tricks of his own, and being both more experienced and bolder, he used them shamelessly, always coming out with the upper hand. Neither minded, but in the moments before shyness crept back in Elphaba would pretend to scowl and declare that next time – oh, _next time_...

It was rare that she actually finished that sentence.

Today was one such occasion, so as she sighed and rested her cheek on the green fabric of his tuxedo, she told Fiyero, "Next time, I'm _not_ falling for the ear trick."

He chuckled, and the noise echoed thickly through his chest, against which her ear was pressed. It was a strange, warm sound, and made her smile without even realising it. "You _like_ it when I kiss your ear."

The inevitable shyness was returning, and her face heated as she buried it against his shoulder. She didn't answer.

"El-_pha_..." he prompted in a sing-song voice. When she still said nothing he paused, considered the idea of verbal sparring – then gave up, because she always won anyway – and leaned down to kiss the tip of her ear. She breathed in sharply and shuddered, and when she opened her eyes, leaning back, she was face-to-face with his triumphant grin.

"All right, all right," she grumbled. "I _do_ like it. Happy?"

"Very. You're blushing again."

She scowled and pressed both icy hands against her cheeks, willing them to fade to their normal green. All that actually happened was that her fingers got colder, and it was no wonder, what with them both having escaped into the snow without so much as a coat. Fiyero was all right, with the multi-layered tuxedo and closed shoes, but Elphaba's dress was thin velvet (which could be blame on Glinda, who'd chosen the fabric) that was soaking up from the floor-length hem (Glinda insisted) with half-melted snow that was squelching under her useless dancing slippers (also, of course, from Glinda). The advantage was that she had a perfectly valid excuse for spending their entire walk tucked under Fiyero's warm arm.

It wasn't a very long walk, sadly, for even though the gardens were extensive and it took several leisurely minutes just to reach the smooth stone wall that ringed it, both knew they couldn't be gone very long without somebody noticing – and in fact, neither of them were aware of just how fast some of the sharper observes would notice their absence. Still, the peace was alluring, as was the chance to be alone together, and party be damned, neither of them were wasting it.

Unfortunately, it was during one of their longer, more intense kisses that eight months worth of luck finally ran out, and someone saw them – someone who had not only come out looking for them, but who was, at least in Elphaba's mind, the worst witness imaginable.

It wasn't Glinda. It wasn't even a reporter. It was Frex.

"ELPHABA!"

Pinned between a warm body and the cold stone wall, Elphaba could not jump, but she stiffened and yanked her arms back to her chest, cheeks blazing. She didn't know what to say. Fiyero, on the other hand, had dealt with irate fathers before.

"Governor Thropp," he said evenly, respectfully, taking half a step backwards. "Good evening."

"Isn't it," said Frex flatly. His eyes flickered over the prince, then settled on Elphaba with a sort of horrified fury that his apparent daughter had never seen before.

"Father–"

"How dare you?"

Though it wasn't directed at him, Fiyero answered anyway: "I promise you, sir, there's nothing indecent here."

Elphaba blinked, breaking her father's gaze long enough to stare at him. He'd just had her backed up against a _wall_ – how could he possibly declare that to be "nothing indecent"?

Frex didn't seem to care. His eyes were fixed on Elphaba, and Fiyero found that strange, since usually _he_ was considered to be the only one at fault. "Governor?"

"Excuse us. Please. I want a word with my daughter."

Now thoroughly baffled, Fiyero looked at Elphaba, who was equally so. She hesitated, then said, "Glinda will be wanting another dance anyway."

Nodding, Fiyero withdrew, but couldn't resist kissing her hand as he left, just because. To his surprise and annoyance, Frex ignored that, too.

Silence lingered until the prince was out of earshot, and then Frex began to seethe. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not a child, Father," said Elphaba quietly. "He's a good–"

"I don't care why you want him," snapped Frex, stepping closer and pointing a finger at her. "This is _wrong_."

"It's my life."

"And you have a moral duty, especially now. You _cannot_ use magic to make people like you!"

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "What?"

"Did you really think no one would notice? Whatever love spell or potion you're using to make him want you, _stop_."

"I'm _not_ using a–"

"Don't lie to me," snapped Frex. "This is illegal. I'll inform the Wizard if I have to."

"You wouldn't _dare_," said Elphaba, and it was a fact, not a challenge. "I know you, too, Father – you'd be too humiliated to _ever_ bring that sort of shame on the family."

He grabbed her arm, just as he had done every time she'd misbehaved since she was little, and it shook her cold confidence. "Don't be so selfish," he growled. "Think of your sister."

Something broke inside her; something painful. Wrenching herself free, she said, "Nessa will be fine. _She_ has _you_."

Then she was gone.

* * *

Fiyero was lingering outside one of the tall glass doors when Elphaba returned, storming out of the shadows and back into the noisy golden light. Her jaw was rigid and her eyes hard, but when she took his offered hand, it was gripped with the desperation of a lifeline.

"Elphaba? What happened?" he asked, glancing around for the missing governor. "You all right?"

"Do you trust me, Fiyero?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded. "Of course I do."

Closing her eyes, she nodded slowly. Then, seeming to draw strength from his words, she straightened up and took a deep breath, forcing her posture to relax; she even put on an almost-convincing smile. "Let's go," she said, nodding at the warm light inside. "I don't want anyone wondering where we've been."

* * *

Morning found Elphaba sitting quietly in her apartment, curled in a stuffed armchair with a book on her lap. She had been up for a while, almost since before light had broken in through the broad windows that filled an entire wall of her parlour. This suite of three rooms – an identical reflection of Glinda's, right next door – had been prepared for her by Oscar some months in advance, and she had to admit that she liked it. The bed and bathrooms were nothing special; functional, comfortable, and nowhere near as ostentatious as in the rooms she had borrowed on earlier visits. The parlour was bigger but had a sense of cosiness, thanks to a small fireplace and the couch arranged in front of it. There were a few subdued pieces of art on the walls, which Elphaba mostly ignored, and row after row of bookshelves. Most were empty for now, but the Grimmerie and a good many other texts were already nestled in place, and it created an atmosphere that Elphaba felt she could relax in.

She needed it. She hadn't slept well, despite turning in early, and had woken at dawn horrified and convinced that she really _had_ been using her magic on Fiyero, and that he was struggling to escape it. A hot bath had calmed her, but she hadn't been able to shake the sick feeling that maybe it was true anyway – maybe she'd used her magic unconsciously, somehow, to get what she wanted. It had happened before, after all, and–

_No_. Those incidents had never been subtle – summoning Nessa's chair, lashing out at a tutor, mending the tear that would have had her father screaming about wasting money on new clothes – they had all been quick, sharp and noisy. Never subtle. Fiyero was _happy_ and he _wanted_ to be with her. Frex was just making wild guesses.

But it was exactly the sort of thing she feared people thinking, and it only doubled her determination to _never_ let this... this whatever-it-was – this relationship – become public.

A loud rapping noise startled her, and she jumped before realising that it was just someone knocking on the door. Marking her page, she slowly walked over to open it. Glinda was waiting outside, perfectly groomed and utterly horrified. "Your _hair_!"

"What?" asked Elphaba, brow furrowed as she reached up to her head. Oh. It was still tangled from the bath.

"Elphie, what were you _thinking_?" cried Glinda, barging in and kicking the door shut behind her. "This is your first official day as Grand Vizier – you can't go out looking like _that_."

Passively, for she knew better than to argue, Elphaba allowed her friend to drag her by the wrist into the bedroom, then sat down as Glinda snatched up the lone hairbrush from her dresser. "We'll be late for breakfast," she grumbled.

"They'll wait," assured Elphaba, finger-combing a few tangles out. Glinda slapped her hand away and plopped down on the wide bed, sitting behind her friend and hurriedly brushing through every lock of long black hair. "You know, I can do this myself," said Elphaba after a minute. "If you want to go ahead and eat, I'll catch up."

Glinda hesitated, busying her fingers with separating the sections for a simple style. Then she admitted, "I'm afraid I'll get lost again."

Her friend chuckled. "You are so bad with directions," she said fondly. Glinda sighed.

"I know. It's horrendible. Do you know I ended up in the east wing last week just trying to find Fiyero's room?"

Now Elphaba blinked. "He's only _one floor_ away. There aren't even any turns."

Glinda blushed and evaded explanations by tying off the half-braid with a flourish and spreading the loose sections of hair over Elphaba's shoulders. "There! Good enough. Let's go and _eat_."

Another laugh. "Let's."

With Elphaba leading, it took them only a few minutes to get from the wing housing their suites to the informal dining room attached to Oscar's. It had become a habit, in these last few months, for the three of them and Fiyero to have breakfast together before going off to do whatever it was they had to do that day. Oscar was the busiest, of course, with dozens of advisors and barons and ministers wanting attention, but he had never once missed a meal, so it was a surprise to find themselves standing in an empty room.

They were expected, obviously, for the table was laden with several hot dishes perfect for breakfast on a cold day, but neither the Wizard nor Fiyero was anywhere in sight.

Hungry, Glinda didn't much care. She just sat down and lifted one platter's lid to reveal a thick, steaming porridge, which she scooped up eagerly. Elphaba was still feeling a little sick from her dream, but filled a bowl anyway, avoiding the extra sugar and other touches that would have added taste to it. They had only just finished pouring themselves a glass of juice each when the door opened behind them.

Oscar came in, holding several newspapers and looking quite jolly. He was wearing the simplest clothes he could currently get away with (the seamstresses had somehow been wheedled into making fancy versions of his 'other world' clothes, which, unlike the robes, he was actually able to walk in), and approached the round table with a spring in his step.

"Good _morning_, girls!" he chirped. Elphaba shook her head, somewhat amused.

"Good morning," she echoed, followed shortly by Glinda, who had to swallow a mouthful of porridge first. "You're twitching," she observed dryly. "What's the good news?"

"You are, my dear," Oscar replied, unfolding the papers and passing them around. They were morning editions of the city's three major newspapers – _The Ozian Times_, the _Emerald City Today_ and _The Herald _– each of which was plastered with a large photo of the announcement balcony and some variant of, _WIZARD APPOINTS GRAND VIZIER!_

Glinda squeaked and reached for them, and Elphaba let out a long breath. "Have you read them?" Oscar nodded. "And?"

"We're off to a good start," he replied merrily. "They weren't _quite_ as enthusiastic as I'd hoped, but that's journalism for you. They're more surprised by the new position than who I've appointed to it, which I imagine pleases you."

She nodded. "Have they said anything about the Animal issues?"

"Not directly," Glinda told her, speed-reading as she spoke. "This one calls you an 'activist' and mentions that you freed that Lion cub – don't make a face, Elphie, I know you're making a face, and we knew they'd look up your history – and anyway, they're painting it in a good light." She checked the by-line. "No wonder; it's Rual Herbrin. He's a Fox. He's been writing pro-Animal articles since before I was born."

"Do you know _everyone_, Glinda?" asked Oscar with warm surprise. She smiled and gave a little shrug.

"They barely mention you and Fiyero in this one," said Elphaba, who had the _Times_ shoved awkwardly between the many dishes of the breakfast table. "They make it sound like any change is a bad change."

"The _Times_ is conservative," said Glinda dismissively. "They'll just be trying to keep their old-fashioned readers from getting grumpy. Let me see it." She read, swallowing another two mouthfuls of sweet porridge before declaring, "It's the uncertainty. Listen – '_an unprecedented and unusual addition to our government hierarchy'_. They mean that yesterday's speech wasn't very clear on what exactly we're going to be doing."

"Hmm. I suppose I could have been a bit more specific," said Oscar, leaning sideways to look at the sentence Glinda pointed out. "Still, maybe it's better this way. If they think they know your limits they could try to corner you, and saying you two have all the executive power in Oz would frighten them."

"It frightens _me_," muttered Elphaba, but she didn't argue.

They continued eating and reading for a while longer before the last member of their little party finally stumbled in, bleary-eyed and yawning. He wore fresh clothes and his hair was still damp from the shower, but other than that he moved like the walking dead. He mumbled a "good morning" that came out more like "g'murfnin" before dropping into his chair and reaching for the coffee.

"You look awful," said Elphaba the ever-subtle.

"Mrph," replied Fiyero, swallowing a large and scalding gulp. "Sorry. Didn't sleep."

"At all?" asked Glinda.

"Nnn." He suppressed another yawn, blinking and shaking his head. "No. Was out all night with the Garllon twins."

"Earl Garllon's sons?"

Fiyero nodded. "Knew them at Quox College. We played billiards. Nollo cheated." Swallowing another gulp, he looked around and actually saw them, and smiled slightly as he reached into his pocket. "Got an unexpected bonus, too."

The item he tossed towards them (and which was almost lost in the jug of fruit juice) was a long, thin, wrinkled piece of paper. Elphaba glanced at it; it was a very long bar bill.

Oscar chuckled. "No wonder you're ill."

"Hey, most of it was them. Lanik and Nollo are so sloshed right now they won't remember a thing, including this. Look on the back," instructed Fiyero, grabbing some dry toast and chewing it. "I did something useful."

The reverse side of the paper had been split into five sections by scratches of dark green ink. Each had an initial or two scrawled at the top, with the rest of the words – all names of towns under Earl Garllon's jurisdiction – having been added later in neater writing and a different ink. Below that each section had two columns of numbers, varying from single digits to dozens and a few hundreds.

"Left is the residents, right is the workers," added Fiyero.

Glinda's brow furrowed. "...This is... the Animal population?"

His mouth now full of toast and jam, Fiyero nodded, glancing at Elphaba, who was suddenly delighted. He swallowed. "I don't think they know their father's been lying to us. It wasn't hard to get them talking about worker taxes."

"Not with that much liquor in them," observed Oscar with a grin. "Well done, son!" he exclaimed, clapping Fiyero's shoulder. Fiyero winced.

"Not so _loud_," he whimpered.

Oscar apologised. "Now, while we're on the subject of good news," he said to the girls, in an obligingly soft tone, "I think I've found the perfect mission for you two to make a first impression with."

"'Mission'?" said Elphaba, one eyebrow raised.

"Job, then, if you prefer. Mayor Darlton tells me there's some sort of neighbourhood squabble over in the southeast district." He waved his hand absently towards the window, which actually faced west. "Apparently not too serious at its core, but the entire area is up in arms over it."

"Animals versus humans?" Elphaba asked cynically.

"No, actually, there's nothing all that racial about it. I think one of the plaintiffs is a Leopard, but that's about it. There are humans siding with him too."

Glinda took another sip of juice. "What's happened?"

"Darlton's not entirely sure. Something financial, maybe with a personal grudge. You'll have to find out and see that it's settled fairly–" he nodded to Elphaba "–and to everyone's satisfaction–" Glinda. He paused, looking around rather cheekily, and as he sipped juice he added, "Of course, if that doesn't work, you could always get them drunk."

Fiyero glared.


	11. Letters

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Author's Notes: About place names – "Kvon Altur" comes directly from the map of Oz in Maguire's novel and seems meant to be a small town, but I'm taking liberties. "Neverdale" is the town in exactly the same place on the curtain-map of the musical, but appears in a completely different place on the book map. I have no idea why. Other place names are taken from one or both maps.

The names of the months aren't very creative, I'm afraid, though I had fun giving some months thirty-three days. The delivery times of each letter aren't very reliable; I've tried to take both distance, courier, and the free time of the recipient into account, but I suggest you don't bother thinking about it too much.

* * *

Chapter Eleven  
_Letters_

9th of First-Moon, Year 22  
Mrs Kerra Upland  
Upland Manor  
Upper Uplands

Darlingest Linny,

Your father and I are _so proud_ of you! _The Gillikin Times _and _Frottica Today_ have your picture all over the cover _again_! As I write, your father is arranging to have them framed, and we've cleared the entire north wall of the sitting room so that no one who comes in could possibly miss them. Congratulations, my little Linny! I can't believe you wrote a _law_!

Everyone in Oz seems to know you now – even your little friend Dulia Whitestone has come by to 'say hello', and I'm sure you remember how her entire family has been ignoring us ever since that embarrassing little incident when you were eight. Of course, we told her that we forgive them and of _course_ we would accept their apology (no matter what the servants tell you, Linny, it was _not_ our fault that her mother was so insulted!), but you might want to watch out for a surprise visit soon, as we told them that our daughter has far too much work to do in the Emerald City to have time to visit _them_.

I have to say, though, dear, that I don't see what's keeping you so busy that you can't come home to see _us_. Surely the Wizard can spare his Press Secretary for a few short weeks? We miss you very much.

Love,  
Momsie and Popsicle

* * *

19th of First-Moon, Year 22  
Elphaba Thropp  
Grand Vizier  
Emerald Palace  
Emerald City

Dear Nessa,

It's wonderful to hear from you, and I'm glad that your first days as Madame Governor went so well. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but I'm sure you and Father enjoyed the celebration just as much without me. The Wizard sends his congratulations, and the red box that should arrive with this letter is from him. (I'm not exactly sure what he gave you, Nessa, but he spent about an hour asking me questions, so it should be something you like.)

I was surprised to hear that Boq was at your appointment banquet; it's good to know you two are friends again. Please tell him I said hello and that I hope his literary career is going well. Has he finished that novel of his yet? It sounded like a very interesting take on religious history, and I would love to read it someday.

I hope you don't mind me using our private letters for official business, but it seems silly to send you two messages at once: The enclosed papers are lists of the law amendments we've recently made that will affect Munchkinland. I thought you'd want to see them as soon as possible.

Congratulations again, Nessa; I'm sure Mother would be proud. I miss you, and I hope you're happy.

Love,  
Elphaba

* * *

1st of Second-Moon, Year 22  
Doctor Ilius Marzan Dillamond  
Professor of Ozian History  
Shiz University

Miss Elphaba,

Rest assured that no letter of yours will ever be a bother; it's lovely to hear from you. I am quite well, and aside from the appalling lack of effort displayed by my second-year students, my work is most satisfying. On a slight tangent, you may be interested to know that, thanks to your efforts in the past few months, my colleges and I are drafting the curriculum for a new class to be offered next year, tentatively titled "History In Progress: The Re-Evaluation of Justice". It will be an ongoing study of the efforts of yourself, the Wizard, and Miss Glinda to help Oz, and we hope it will show students how choices are made by those who do not have the benefit of knowing what will happen next, and thus keep them from judging events in years past too harshly.

As to the favour you ask, it is no trouble at all; enclosed are copies of Madame Morrible's student file and her teaching record, as well as the employment records for Shiz faculty for the last fifty years. I expect that the former has to do with the upcoming three-year anniversary of the Madame's unfortunate death, but I admit to being puzzled by the latter. May I ask what it is for?

I must also tell you that Headmaster Arren was quite shocked to learn that you had written to me instead of him with this request, and is terribly worried that he has somehow offended you. I trust I can tell him that there is no need to worry?

Please feel free to write to me at any time, Miss Elphaba, and if I can be of any more help, you need only ask.

Your friend,  
I M Dillamond

* * *

4th of Second-Moon, Year 22  
Lady Glinda Upland  
Emerald Palace  
Emerald City

Dearest Momsie and Popsie,

I'm sorry it took me so long to write back, but there's so much to do! Elphie and I have spent the last few months meeting every minister and advisor and baron and lord and earl and judge and magistrate who is helping us to rule Oz (us! Doesn't that sound wonderful?), and there just hasn't been time to stop.

Being Press Secretary is a lot of work. Every day my assistants bring me newspapers and reports about all the important things that are happening with the court and the city and the rest of Oz, and then I have to balance all that against the work Elphie and Fiyero and His Ozness are doing and decide what parts of it the public should know and what they needn't be bothered with. Whenever I'm not doing that I'm with Elphie, either listening to petitions from Ozians who have complaints or a problem they need us to fix, or in the library reviewing Ozian law. Did you know that two hundred years ago, Queen Ozma the Operatic passed a law saying that no one with feathers could own a restaurant? Not _work_ in it, just _own_ it, and she still said it was for health reasons! Thankfully, Elphie and His Ozness and I were able to annul that one without having to take it to the cabinet ministers – you wouldn't believe how boringable they are.

But you mustn't think I'm complaining! I'm really very happy here. Everyone likes me, and they all call me "_Lady_ Glinda"! Sometimes I actually have to stop them because they start calling me "Lady _Arduenna_", which is just silly since they all should know only Grandpop can actually call himself by our clan name.

About that: Aren't the Whitestones part of our clan, distantly? I don't really remember Miss Dulia, but I know Popsie and her father threw wine at each other during Granny's birthday party. What really happened to make them hate us so much?

I really would love to come home soon –I miss you so much! – but I just don't think I'm going to have the time. All the new laws Elphie and I have made to counter the bias against Animals are starting to be put into practice, and that means that _three times _as many people as usual are petitioning us to settle problems, and we can't ignore them or else they're going to ignore our laws. I'm sorry, Momsie, but I'm just not sure what's going to happen. I'll write to you whenever I can.

Love,  
Your Linny  
_Lady_ Glinda

* * *

17th of Second-Moon, Year 22  
Lady Amadel Tiggular  
Kvon Altur  
Neverdale

Fiyero,

Are you well? We hope you are, and you'll be glad to know that everyone here at home is doing fine; your father's leg has healed, Narjin has nearly completed his studies, Dian is growing fast and Meru insists that he has your eyes. She particularly misses you, Fiyero. We were surprised to hear that you decided to stay in the Emerald City for the summer as well, as you've always come home before. Your father was looking forward to a proper hunting trip with both his sons; do let us know as soon as possible if you change your mind.

To answer your question, yes, I'm afraid the population records in the City Archives will indeed be out of date – probably by eight years or so. Your father and I decided that it was not practical to seek out or recall every nomadic tribe once a year just to record their names when they never grow by more than a few people every year. I'm sure that the Wizard or your friend Madame Elphaba will be satisfied if you just estimate the population increase with those numbers; I assume this has to do with the rumours we've been hearing about a formal, Oz-wide census? Please explain to the Vizier how impractical this would be, and for our sake, ask her to reconsider.

Do pass on our greetings to the Wizard, Madame Vizier, and your Miss Glinda. It was very nice to meet your friends at your graduation last year, and we hope they are well.

We look forward to seeing you soon, Fiyero.

Love,  
Mother  
Father, Narjin, Meru and Dian

* * *

30th of Second-Moon, Year 22  
Nessarose Thropp  
Madame Governor  
Colwen Grounds  
Munchkinland

Elphaba,

Please give the Wizard my thanks for the brooch; having the Oz monogram circling our family crest is a perfect symbol for my position as Madame Governor. I hope you were very careful with what you said when he asked what sort of gift I would like, and didn't make me out to sound like a little girl.

Thank you for the amendments. Father and I have already seen to integrating them into Munchkinland law.

I'm very happy, Elphaba, and I miss you, too. Boq and I talked about you yesterday when we went on a very lovely picnic by the lake; his novel is coming along slowly, I'm afraid, and I can't tell you what it's like because he won't let me see it – I think he wants it to be a big surprise for me when it's done, and I can't wait.

Will you be coming home for your birthday next month?

Love,  
Nessa

* * *

33rd of Second-Moon, Year 22  
Elphaba Thropp  
Grand Vizier  
Emerald Palace  
Emerald City

Doctor Dillamond,

Thank you very much for your help. To answer your question, I've been trying to see where and how so much of this unspoken bias against Animals actually came from, and I thought the faculty of a place like Shiz might be a good place to start.

I'm sorry I upset the Headmaster; I honestly hadn't thought about that. Glinda is helping me draft a letter to apologise without actually apologising, since apparently I'm not supposed to do that when someone's feelings are hurt, so I'd very much appreciate it if you could just tell him it wasn't personal.

That course sounds very interesting, and I'd be the first to sign up if I could. I can't promise to make very interesting decisions for you, but if I have time, I could try to make the reasons behind our choices more publicly known. Or would that ruin the point?

Actually, if you don't mind, can I ask another favour on the same subject? Glinda and Fiyero and I are having a hard time getting honest opinions of what Ozians in general think of the changes we've been making – everyone here in the city either wants something from us or is trying too hard to impress. I know you'll be honest, so would you mind telling us what you think of everything that we've been doing?

If you don't have the time, please don't worry about it. Thank you again for the files.

Sincerely,  
Elphaba Thropp

* * *

2nd of Third-Moon, Year 22  
Fallorn Tanzin  
Rose Street Tailor's Shop  
Ashton, Emerald City

Madame Grand Vizier,

I apologise most sincerely for being so forward as to write to you directly, but in your acceptance speech on Lurlinemas Day, you said that you would always be ready to assist Ozians in need of justice. I'm sorry to say that here in Ashton there has been an incident for which we are in sore need of such help.

In short, my son recently submitted his application to the local constabulary, but last night in the tavern, Constable Rerd Northorn – who was off-duty at the time and apparently somewhat intoxicated – declared that he would "never let a useless Animal wear one of his uniforms". My son argued that, as a Dog, he would be far from useless, and that your recent decrees have banned exactly that sort of discrimination. There was a brawl, and my son's tail was broken in three places by Northorn and two of his human friends.

I apologise again for taking so much of your time, but Northorn is the only law enforcer in our small area, the district magistrate is preoccupied with a murder trial, and the waiting list for petitions at the palace is three weeks long; I can see no alternative but to write to you. Myself and my neighbours in Ashton greatly respect the decision you made in Florton earlier this year, and we would be most obliged if you could ensure that the matter of Constable Northorn is investigated soon.

Humbly,  
Fallorn Tanzin, Tailor

* * *

4th of Third-Moon, Year 22  
Fallorn Tanzin  
Rose Street Tailor's Shop  
Ashton, Emerald City

Madame Grand Vizier,

Thank you once again for your most prompt attention to the matter I raised. I am sorry that we were not prepared to greet you – we did not realise that you customarily travel across town at one o'clock in the morning to deal with such offences. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for all you have done, particularly for your generosity in seeing to my son's medical needs. My neighbours and I greatly appreciate your swift reorganisation of the local law enforcement services.

If I might ask, for sake of curiosity, how long will former-Constable Northorn remain furry?

Yours,  
Fallorn Tanzin, Tailor

* * *

11th of Third-Moon, Year 22  
Frexspar Thropp  
Governor Regent  
Colwen Grounds  
Munchkinland

Elphaba,

We can't accept amendment forty-four on this list; it would mean losing all the taxes from corn shipments, and we can't afford that. You'll have to change it back.

Your sister asked me to include copies of our reformation laws. There should be thirty-two pages.

Regards,  
Father

* * *

15th of Third-Moon, Year 22  
Fiyero Tiggular  
Emerald Palace  
Emerald City

Dear Mother, Father, Narjin, Meru and Dian

Yes, I'm good. Life here is never boring. The Wizard asks me to formally send his greetings, and the girls informally ask the same. They're all good, and they liked meeting you, too. I'm _not_ dating Glinda.

Tell Meru I miss her more than she does, and that if Dian has my eyes I'm going to have to be very nice to him in order to get them back in my head where they belong. Maybe she could keep watch for me?

Sorry about the hunting trip, Father, but there's always next year, and if not, we can stalk snowcats when I come back for Meru's birthday. Are they getting braver this year, or are there just more of them up in the Kells?

Also, sorry that my census is going to be so much trouble, but we really need accurate numbers to work out labour taxes and keep the local starch-shirt noblemen from underpaying their workers. When I wrote it (bet you never thought I'd be writing legislation!), I figured we could just update the census at the solstice festival every year. Even the Yunamata come together for that.

Will write again soon.  
Love,  
Fiyero

* * *

20th of Third-Moon, Year 22  
Elphaba Thropp  
Grand Vizier  
Emerald Palace  
Emerald City

Dear Nessa,

I'm so sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it home for my birthday this year. I've been trying all week to get things done early and take a few days off, but even with Glinda and Fiyero offering to do more than I think they can handle, it just won't work. I'm really sorry, Nessa. I was looking forward to seeing you.

It sounds like you and Boq had a wonderful time on your picnic. By "lake" do you mean the duck pond behind Mother's orchard, or did you two go all the way the Mossmere? Either way, I'm glad you're happy. I expect that Boq is shy about showing anyone his drafts; he probably thinks they're not very good. You might want to avoid getting your hopes up, but of course, I hope you're right.

I'm sorry to bring up business again, but you need to tell Father that I can't just reverse an amendment that the Wizard and his cabinet have already seen and approved, especially not after I was the one who suggested it. I really hate to make things difficult for you, but those taxes have to be dropped or else corn prices will be too high for the Quadlings and small-town citizens to handle. I'm really not sure why you needed to tax everyone travelling in or out of Munchkinland anyway; some people just won't be able to afford it. As Vizier, can I ask you to talk to me next time before you make those kinds of changes?

As your sister, let me say again that I'm really sorry not to be coming home. I miss you, Nessa, and I wish I could be there for you.

Hopefully I'll see you soon.

Love,  
Elphaba

* * *

24th of Fourth-Moon, Year 22  
Earl Yedran Garllon  
437 Green Star Avenue  
Emerald City

Lord Fiyero,

Having just heard an long-overdue confession from my sons concerning their most appalling behaviour following the Lurlinemas Ball, I must beg your acceptance of a most sincere apology, however delayed it may be. I assure you, no matter what their behaviour during your mutual time at Quox College, Lanik and Nollo do not usually imbibe enough alcohol to make up such absurd stories as that which they have regrettably informed me were fabricated that night.

Apologetically,  
Earl Yedran Garllon

* * *

26th of Fourth-Moon, Year 22  
Prince Fiyero Tiggular  
Emerald Palace  
Emerald City

Earl Garllon,

I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. As I remember it, when your sons and I played billiards we only talked about our families and predictions for the post-Lurlinemas Quoxball game. They did say something about taxes and Animal labourers, but as far as I remember it was so ridiculous that I laughed and told Lanik that no nobleman in Oz would _ever_ be so unethical. That said, if ever we share drinks again, I'll keep your words in mind.

Sincerely,  
Prince Fiyero Tiggular

* * *

26th of Fourth-Moon, Year 22  
Fiyero Tiggular  
Emerald Palace  
Emerald City

Glinda,

Earl Garllon's worried. He just tried to pass off the tax evasions the twins told me about as a drunken prank. Hopefully this means he'll be paying his Animal workers properly before we take the census in Sixth-Moon.

How are things going in Utensia? Let us know if you need a hand dealing with the Quadlings, all right? I know, you told me you wanted to do this alone, but I really wish you'd at least taken a few guards along just in case.

Since I know you'd want to ask, yes, Elphaba's still living in the library. Yesterday I suggested that we just move her bed in there and for a moment she was actually considering it. When you get back the two of us are going to have to drag her out of there by force. There's a new ice-cream shop opening soon on West Marble Boulevard – we should take her there for an afternoon.

See you soon.

Love,  
Fiyero

* * *

1st of Fifth-Moon, Year 22  
Meru Tiggular  
Kvon Altur  
Neverdale

Hello Fiyero!

Surprise it's me! Mamma said that if I used my best handwriting I could be the one to write our family letter to you this time. Mamma and Daddy say hello and hope you are happy and Narjin says hello and Dian is angry because I won't play and won't say anything but I'm sure he loves you anyway.

Last week I had a haircut and its much too short now but Mamma promises me it will grow back soon.

We all miss you and love you and Daddy says that if he travels to the Emerald City soon he might take me with him to come and see you! What is a sensus proposal?

Love Meru  
and Mamma and Daddy and Narjin and Dian  
(Narjin says he's fixed my spelling and punkctuation. I'm good at writing, amn't I?)

* * *

3rd of Fifth-Moon, Year 22  
Lady Glinda Upland  
Utensia  
Quadling Country

Dear Fiyero,

That's very sweet of you, but really, I'm fine. I don't need soldiers to protect me. Everyone here treats me like a princess, and they're all very cooperative. I think it's the tiara – I know Elphie said it was too much, but it's really very useful for getting people to listen.

Congratulotions on Earl Garllon! I know you've been looking forward to catching him for months. What did your parents say about the census? Do they know you wrote it yet, and that it was your idea? It really was a wonderful one, Fiyero, and it's going to be such _fun_ announcing that from the Grand Balcony! Have you written a speech yet, or do you just want me to do it? I already have lots of ideas.

As for Elphie, try stealing her glasses at breakfast; she never gets anything done if she can't read the small print. She's perfected her searching spell, though, so either you'll have to hide them with Oscar's spare glasses or ask Chistery to put them on the roof.

Anyways, I'm really tired – I've been on my feet _all_ day – so I'm going to bed now. Goodnight! I should be home in another week or so.

Love,  
Glinda

* * *

5th of Fifth-Moon, Year 22

Miss Elphaba,

This is Boq; I'm using an envelope Nessa addressed to you earlier to sneak this out. I'm sorry but there was no other way.

I need your help. I haven't left your sister's house since I got here almost a year ago, and every time I tell her I want to quit my job she ignores me. I'm practically locked in; I think the guards have orders not to let me leave. I know I have no right to ask you or Miss Glinda for help, but I'm desperate. I never wanted to hurt Nessa, but I'm not in love with her, and I want to go home. My family has no idea what's happened to me and I can't write to them because your sister has people checking all the post.

Please help me. I'll do anything you ask.

Boq

* * *

11th of Fifth-Moon, Year 22

Fiyero,

I didn't want to wake you, but I've got to go to Munchkinland. It looks like Nessa's done something very stupid. Tell the others not to worry about me. I'll be back soon.

Elphaba


	12. The Family Thropp

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Twelve  
_The Family Thropp_

Year 2  
Summer

It was a wet, muggy, exhausting sort of afternoon in Munchkinland, and the Thropp family was gathered in their informal sitting room, watching the rain patter down outside the windows. Frex was uncomfortable, tugging at his collar and trying to wipe his forehead without letting his wife see, for Melena was eight months pregnant, ill _again_, and stubbornly insisting she was cold.

"Don't we have any thicker blankets, Brynna?" she asked, looking at the maid who had just come in with a hot drink for her. Brynna shook her head.

"Not thicker, ma'am, but I could fetch you more of them, if you like."

Melena sighed and shook her head, cradling the cup in her hands and letting it warm her. "We could light a fire, I suppose."

At this, Frex had to protest. "Dear..." he began, looking around for an excuse, "...I think Elphaba's warm enough already."

He gestured to their daughter, who was sitting on a rug on the other side of the room, quietly playing with some wooden blocks. She had been dressed in a fancy purple outfit, but at some point must have simply discarded it, and Frex was grateful that no visitors were expected for the rest of the day. Melena looked at her, tilting her head as she smiled fondly – then shivered and pulled the blanket higher.

Frex felt her forehead. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to go to bed, dear?"

She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

Brynna spoke up, "Would you like us to fetch that trunk for you now, ma'am? It may do you good to move around a bit."

Melena, who had nearly forgotten about the things she'd asked to be brought from the attic, straightened up and smiled. Swallowing a sip of liquid, she nodded and replied, "Yes, that would be lovely."

A few minutes later the trunk was brought. It was a heavy old thing, quite large, and would have been covered in dust if the servants hadn't made a point of wiping it down before bringing it to their mistress. Melena heaved herself toward it, excited, and Frex joined her with somewhat less enthusiasm. It was mostly filled with baby clothes, things that had been cheerfully gathered by both parents before Elphaba's birth and packed away once she'd outgrown them. About half were old-fashioned hand-me-downs from Frex and Melena's own babyhoods, and although they had more than enough money to buy new ones, Melena was a sentimental woman and flatly refused to get rid of even the most worn-out little wool hats.

"Oh, Frex, look at this!" she exclaimed, pulling out a tiny blue dress that Frex had always secretly hated, but tolerated just for sake of seeing her face light up each time they re-discovered it. "This was mine," she murmured, caressing the fabric. Then she held the dress up and looked across at Elphaba, who was still engrossed in her game. "Do you remember when she fit into this?" asked Melena, wistful now. "She's getting so _big_."

"She's two and a half," he agreed blandly, looking through the trunk. "Hmmm... this wasn't packed very well; the clothes are mixed up with toys and such."

Melena looked back at her husband and the growing piles of baby clothes on the floor around them. Continuing to dig, she suddenly frowned. "Frex, isn't that your stuffed scarecrow doll?"

He looked, then reached in to pick it up, turning it over. He hesitated, but he could hardly deny it. "Yes, it is. I thought I'd lost that."

Melena fixed him with a pointed stare. "You 'lost' it right after Elphaba was born. She was supposed to _have_ that doll, Frex."

"It was an accident," he promised, and, aware that he hadn't had much credibility since his disgusted outburst at said birth, turned and called, "Elphaba? Come here, we have something for you."

Little Elphaba looked up, puzzled but not bothered by the interruption to her game. She climbed to her feet and toddled over, still holding one of the square blocks. Frex put on a smile and handed her the doll.

"Papa?"

"For you, Elphaba. It was... it was mine, when I was little."

Her green face broke into a huge smile and she hugged first it, then her father. "Love you, Papa."

Frex returned the hug with the sort of ease that only comes from great practice, patting her back and trying to focus on her black hair instead of her bare skin. When he pulled away he said, "Put your dress back on."

Still beaming, Elphaba nodded, picked up the painted cube, and hurried back to her play spot, carefully putting the soft little doll on the floor before picking up the dress and awkwardly climbing into it. Then she sat down and introduced the scarecrow to her blocks.

Melena was watching her fondly. "She'll be a wonderful big sister, Frex. She's so good."

"Hmm." Frex turned back to the box. "Look, dear, isn't that your mirror? The silver one you thought you'd lost?"

"It is!" said Melena, taking up the hand-mirror and turning it over in her hands. "Your mother gave me this," she added, as though Frex weren't perfectly aware. "It should go to Elphaba."

"_Wha_– Erm, what?" asked Frex.

"I'm going to give it to Elphaba," Melena declared, holding out the mirror more to look at its delicate engravings than her own reflection. "Clothes shouldn't be the only family heirloom she gets, and every young woman needs this sort of thing."

Her husband was hesitant. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Melena frowned, glancing up. "Why not?"

He seemed to have trouble choosing his words. "Do you really want to give _Elphaba_ something so... so associated with... looks?"

It was clear in an instant that these words were wrong. Melena's face darkened and she slammed the mirror down. "Elphaba!" she called, struggling to her feet. "Elphaba, would you like to play with paints again? The bright coloured ones you and I made a mess with last time?"

Elphaba, cradling the little scarecrow like a baby of her own, looked up eagerly and glanced at Frex, who had so disapproved last time. "I can paint me?" she asked as her mother waddled over.

"Yes, and even better? You can paint _me_, too."

Elphaba squealed and jumped and clapped, white teeth bright in her face, and Frex just shook his head as Melena called to the servants. A few minutes later five or six pots of simple water paints had been prepared and set out on the floor atop an old, stained tablecloth. It wasn't very big, but Elphaba was a careful child and Brynna was standing by to mop up any spills.

Frex continued to unpack the baby things while Melena settled herself on the floor by her daughter, helping her back out of the small, fancy dress and draping another cloth over her own clothes. "I'm going to be green today," she declared, handing Elphaba a brush. "Will you paint me?"

Elphaba giggled and stood, standing by her mother and smearing the globby green mix across one cheek in big, uneven swirls. She focused intently on it, tip of her tongue sticking out, and held the brush tightly with both hands. Although some clumps ended up in Melena's hair and ear, most of it ended up where intended – first on both cheeks, then her forehead, nose and chin. The silver hand-mirror was used for an inspection.

"Mmm! Frex, I think our daughter is going to be an artist," declared Melena, and said daughter beamed. "What colour would you like to be today, Elphaba?"

The child paused, looking at the array of colours, and Frex fully expected her to pick white or pink, the closest shades to normal skin. Instead she pushed both aside and reached for the bright red pot.

"Red, Elphaba? You want to be red today?"

She nodded. "Like the kadlings."

Melena laughed and promised that she would look _just_ like a Quadling when they were finished. A few minutes later, Elphaba's face was almost entirely caked in red, and she sat cuddled beside her mother (it was now quite impossible to sit on her lap) as the two of them looked at their reflections. "We're beautiful," declared Melena, hugging her daughter. "We are _very_ beautiful. And when the new baby comes, we'll all paint each other and all _three_ of us will be beautiful."

Elphaba smiled and leaned against her mother, the fast-drying paint starting to crack every time she moved her cheeks. Green chips were already flaking away from Melena's chin and forehead, but she didn't care; she kissed Elphaba's black hair and said, "Brynna, would you fetch the camera?"

Frex, listening, was startled. "Camera? You want a picture of... this?"

"Yes. Brynna?"

"Right away, ma'am," said the woman, smiling as she hurried off.

Elphaba looked up. "Take a picture?"

"Mmhm. We're going to take a picture right now, and we're going to frame it and hang it on the parlour wall so that _everyone_ can see how beautiful we are."

"Melena!" cried Frex, horrified. "The _guests_–"

"Already stare," she replied, and said nothing more to him until Brynna returned.

"I'm afraid I don't know how to use it, ma'am," she confessed.

"Frex does," said Melena, one arm on her large belly and the other around her daughter. "Take the picture, Frex."

"Dear, I really think–"

"_Take the picture_, Frex."

He took the picture. He took several, actually, despite the expense of the device and the film inside it, for Elphaba seemed to love posing and Melena freely indulged her. When at last he had an excuse – the film was spent – Frex rather firmly suggested that it was time for Elphaba to take a bath and go to bed.

The little girl made no protest, but picked up her new doll and hugged her father again – leaving little flakes of red on his shirt – before hugging her Mama and then leaning over to press her cheek against Melena's belly. She wrapped her arms around the swell and said, "Night, baby."

She got an extra kiss for that.

Elphaba's nanny, an Antelope who had also been the midwife at her birth, was waiting quietly at the door for her charge, and as they walked off towards the washroom, Elphaba's light, happy voice could be heard as she introduced the woman to her new doll.

Melena smiled and leaned into the cushions of a couch, offhandedly thanking Brynna for putting the paints away and looking around for her blanket. Frex draped it over her and sat down by her side. "Dear," he began carefully, "I was able to find more milkflowers for you."

"Ugh," groaned Melena, feeling her stomach clench. "Frex, I don't feel well. I hate those things, and I've already got a cold."

"I know," he said gently, stroking her hair, "but it's important. Think of the baby..."

Melena Thropp sighed. She knew perfectly well that there was nothing wrong with the baby. She, unlike her husband, knew exactly what had caused Elphaba's odd skin tone, and it wasn't something that this child had to worry about. The pretty little green bottle she kept after that wonderful night out was safely hidden in a drawer upstairs, and there was nothing left to drink in it anyway. She knew that she could tell Frex about it, explain that it had been a gift from that charming man who had turned out to be the greatest Wizard that Oz had ever known, and avoid eating any more of those horrible white plants...

...But she looked into his face, so open, so adoring, so _trusting_, and knew she couldn't do that to him.

Sighing, she took up a bleached white stem and chewed.

* * *

Year 22  
Summer

As Elphaba Thropp, Grand Vizier of Oz, returned home to Colwen Grounds for the first time in almost a year, she noticed several changes, large and small, that were the first real signs that more had been happening in Munchkinland than anyone had told her.

Most obviously, there were now guards at the manor's main gates. Mostly ceremonial, by the look of them, but these Munchkins took themselves very seriously, and Elphaba had the impression that if she hadn't been such a distinctive figure with her green skin, dress and hat, she would have been made to wait until someone inside permitted her entrance. The second thing she noticed, as her carriage rolled in, was that there was a heavy-looking chain dangling from and clanging against the iron rungs of the gate, as though it were now habit to lock them firmly every night, keeping everyone out – or in. The third, which was nowhere near as threatening and yet somehow just as unsettling, was that every servant she could see, be they maids or gardeners or stable boys, was arrayed in a new-looking silver uniform. The Thropp family servants had never been liveried before.

It was not, overall, a very welcoming sight.

The grounds themselves were lovely, of course. The warm sun in the blue sky shone down on everything, making the already-bright colours of Munchkin flora and architecture seem somehow even brighter, until the entire place felt like a picture in a children's book. Elphaba smiled at that, for even she found the Emerald City a little _too_ green at times, and leaned out the window to smell the flowery breeze that always made her feel at home.

She was recognised, of course, by staff and servants whom she had grown up with, and waved back at them merrily, so it was only when her driver actually stopped them at the manor's front doors that Elphaba's thoughts returned to the less pleasant issue of why she was actually there.

Stepping out of the carriage and giving her customary thanks to the driver and soldier who accompanied her, Elphaba looked around at the hastily-assembled staff, trying to find Boq among the silver uniforms. She had hoped to speak with him first, to get his entire story before saying anything to her sister, but no such luck – Nessa was already wheeling herself through the front door, looking delighted and beautiful in her blue dress and red chair.

"Elphaba!" she cried happily. "We weren't expecting you!"

Elphaba smiled back with little effort and walked forward, taking her sister's outstretched hands and crouching beside the chair. "I was able to take a few days off," she said, not exactly lying. "I thought it was important that I come to see you."

Nessa beamed and squeezed her hands. "Your timing is perfect; Father will be back from Linster tonight and I've just finished my meetings for the day. We have all afternoon to talk." She grinned and, releasing the brake on her chair, turned to wheel herself inside. "Come in, Elphaba, come in. There's so _much_ I want to tell you."

Elphaba, who could hardly say that she wanted to talk to Boq first, followed, nodding and briefly greeting the staff she recognised. Brynna, who had become the housekeeper several years ago, leaned over to touch Elphaba's arm and say, "It's good to see you again."

Elphaba smiled and thanked her. Nessa was oblivious, hurrying them inside and sending the servants back to their usual duties. She rolled on ahead into the main parlour, manoeuvring around furniture with practiced ease and settling herself beside an end table that was just the right height for her chair. Elphaba took the couch.

"Tea," she said primly to one of the servants – not Boq – who bowed to them both and walked away, leaving Elphaba feeling like she was visiting some very formal place rather than relaxing in her own home. Nessa, however, seemed pleased. "We've been buying tea from the Vinkus recently," she said cheerfully. "Those farms they've been starting in the wetter parts of the grasslands apparently have amazing soil. Father and I are hoping to import some of it soon to see if we can produce our own crop next year."

Elphaba's brow raised as she took off her tall hat. "Import soil?" she asked dryly. Nessa sighed.

"Tea, of course. There's some sort of lovely spice in the Vinkun blend that we just haven't been able to reproduce, and everyone wants it, so the buying price has gone up," she explained, as though her sister didn't work with finances every day too.

"As far as I know," said Elphaba, "the Vinkuns are hoping to make enough profit from those exports to offset all the money that went into building the farms and hiring workers in the first place. I don't think they're likely to sell one of their best products to a competitor."

"We'll talk them into it," said Nessa lightly, accepting her cup from the servant and stirring it. "I'm just not sure yet whether we should plant them in the Corn Basket or down near Nest Hardings – it might be _too_ wet in some places."

"I don't know anything about tea, Nessa," said Elphaba, helping herself to a biscuit instead, "but I don't think you should make those plans until after the trade is agreed on."

"You've always been a pessimist, Elphaba," said her sister, sounding a bit condescending. "They'll agree, and then we can have this tea all the time. Isn't it lovely?"

Elphaba sipped, and agreed that, indeed, it was rather nice. Nessa smiled.

The conversation continued for the next several hours, sometimes evenly shared between the sisters, but mostly Nessa talking to Elphaba about the events in her life – what it was like being Madame Governor, how their father had been, all the ambitious plans she was making for Munchkinland, and, of course, how happy she was to have Boq around all the time. Elphaba was used to these one-sided conversations and – in this case more so than usual – didn't mind in the least. She was relieved when the subject of Boq came and went without incident, though it unsettled her to notice that Nessa glossed over many details of what exactly he said or did – details she'd have expected her sister to talk about endlessly.

At last, after the biscuits were long gone and the teapot cold, Brynna came to inform them that Frexspar had returned and was looking forward to seeing them both at dinner. Nessa, surprised, looked up and said, "My, the time went fast, didn't it?"

Elphaba evaded the question.

Five minutes later, on the pretext of getting some fresh air before the meal, Elphaba strode through the kitchen and servants' corridors, trying not to appear rushed or rude, but hurrying nonetheless. Brynna appeared, and as Elphaba opened her mouth to say that she was sorry, but it would have to wait, the older woman told her, "Boq is in the second floor study."

Elphaba stilled. "You know about him?"

"I posted his letter to you," Brynna explained, and, keeping her voice low, began casually walking Elphaba out into the main halls. "It was all I could do. Most of the staff sympathises but there are some new folk I just don't trust. I'm sorry you had to be brought into this – we would have helped him get off the grounds if we could."

"Why can't you?" asked Elphaba, keeping her voice equally soft and her pace slow as they headed up the stairs.

"Because your sister has made it a crime." Brynna's face was drawn and serious and, Elphaba noticed, very sad. It wasn't hard to guess why; she had helped to raise Nessa, and was essentially betraying her. "A few months ago she made a small change to employment laws so that now, if young Boq doesn't have an official dismissal before he leaves the job, he can be legally recalled, or arrested. We objected, tried to talk her out of it, but..." She shrugged. "The good news is that the entire family counts as our employer, so your signature is as valid as your sister's or father's."

Elphaba nodded, but her jaw was tight. "How could Nessa make a change like that in the first place? I can't see Father agreeing; there's no point in having such a law."

"I'm not sure your father knows," said Brynna carefully. They had reached the study now, and she reached out to open the door.

Boq was waiting inside, pacing anxiously and silver cap askew. He looked up as they came in and, upon seeing Elphaba's face, he hurried over, holding papers that were obviously his employment contract. "Miss Elphaba, please. I know I have no right to–"

She held up a hand, not planning to waste any time on this. "I'll help you," she said, "but first I want to know _exactly_ what's happened. Why are you even working here? I thought you were writing your novel."

Nervously crinkling the papers in his hand, Boq glanced at the door – Brynna had closed it, promising to keep watch outside – and forced himself to take a seat in front of Nessa's desk. Elphaba took the other. "I _was_ writing," he said, "but... well, did you know I attended Shiz on scholarship?" Elphaba nodded. "I didn't keep a high enough average to get the full three years worth of money, so I had to borrow the rest, and now I'm in debt." He shrugged. "Nessa offered me work. It was better than any pay I could get elsewhere, so I took it. I didn't plan to stay for long."

Elphaba frowned. "And Nessa was clear on that?"

"...Sort of. I thought so!" he defended as Elphaba groaned. "I thought she understood that I just wanted to be friends. I told her that."

"Outright?"

Boq hesitated. "More or less."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Elphaba leaned back in the hard wooden chair. "Go on."

He shrugged. "At first I thought everything was fine; we'd talk every so often, and I'd work on my book when I had time, but then she just started changing things. When my debt was half paid off she started cutting my salary, first by a quarter, then a third, saying that it was only temporary, but it's never gone back up. I started telling her I wanted to quit but she ignored me, and then she changed the employment laws, then posted guards at the gate, and now she's found a way to keep me from leaving Munchkinland entirely! What was I supposed to do?"

Elphaba ignored that, leaning forward with her hands clasped, elbows on her knees. "Are you _absolutely sure_ that she did all that to keep you here, and not for any other reason?"

"I'm sure," he said, "but I can't prove it." He glanced at the door again, and offered the paperwork. "_Please_ sign it. I never wanted to hurt her – I just want to leave."

"You've been hurting her for almost four years, Boq. Even when you broke up with her in Shiz, she was still convinced that it was 'just a phase' and that someday you'd get back together. Every letter she's sent me has made it sound like you were a perfect, happy couple. If you run off now without even saying goodbye... she'll chase you. Ending your contract won't change that."

Boq looked down. "I don't know what else to do."

Neither did Elphaba, but she took the papers anyway. Reading over them, her eye now trained to look for little legal details, she caught Nessa's alterations, so innocent-looking, so rationalised, yet so dangerous. Once she was sure of what she was signing, she put pen to paper, but did not give them back to Boq.

"You're going to talk to her," Elphaba told him. "After dinner, with me. I'll try to keep Father out of it, but you've got to make sure this never happens again."

The Munchkin cringed. "What am I supposed to say? As soon as she knows you've helped me she'll be furious."

"_Face_ her, Boq, and hold your ground for once," replied Elphaba, annoyed now. She stood up. "If you'd told her the truth from the beginning, this wouldn't have happened, and I wouldn't have to go out there now knowing we're about to break her _heart_."

Boq looked away.

"I'll give you the contract afterwards," she promised, heading for the door. "I suggest you work out exactly what you're going to say."

* * *

Dinner was torture, and only in part because Elphaba knew what was going to happen next. Nessa was simply happy, and, having finally finished talking about everything in her life, asked many questions about Elphaba's, which served as a nice distraction for the guilt-ridden elder sister. On the other hand, Frex was there too, and less than thrilled by the surprise visit. The first thing he said, once the unpleasant pleasantries were over, was, "What brings you here?" The claim that she had managed to secure a little time off, so easily accepted by Nessa, didn't hold up to their father's scrutiny, and he spent most of the meal questioning every decision she'd made in her last six months as Grand Vizier. He agreed with some of them, and didn't exactly disagree with the rest, but his only sign of approval was an abrupt change of subject, which – though expected – was disheartening.

"I was surprised to hear about some of the changes being made around here," Elphaba said at last, turning the question on them. "Why did you choose to put a tax on _travel_, of all things? I've heard complaints from at least four families who say they can't visit their Munchkin relatives because the border taxes are too high."

"Because a lot of private farms and craftsmen have been evading the export taxes," said Nessa reasonably, scooping up a bite of her food. "They were moving their goods into Quadling country on the pretence of bringing gifts to family members, which is unfair to honest taxpayers and swindles us out of quite a bit of income."

Elphaba's brow furrowed, but it was a voluntary action, slightly exaggerated, and she chose her words carefully. "Then why don't you put the tax on the supplies themselves? Tax anyone who's crossing with more than a certain quantity of goods? What you have now isn't fair to other travellers. I'm told there are some people," she added pointedly, "who literally cannot leave Munchkinland."

"Anyone with such troubles can apply for a travel allowance," Nessa replied serenely. "We cover the cost of border taxes for anyone who isn't profiting from the journey."

"That seems like a waste of time and effort, Nessa," said her sister. She hesitated, then asked, "By the way, what made you post guards at the manor gates? Since when is Munchkinland so dangerous that we need armed protection at all times?"

She tried to make it sound like a joke, but Elphaba had never been very good at joking, and her family wasn't used to hearing it. Nessa frowned at her, puzzled, and Frex replied, "There have been a few incidents with disgruntled prosecutors demanding evidence for legal cases that we can't give out. It's possible they'll try to break into the manor and steal our documents."

Now Elphaba's surprise was genuine. "_That's_ the threat? Lawyers? Are we hiding from the Lollypop Guild now, too?"

Dry sarcasm was a much more familiar style, and Nessa was not amused. "It makes me feel safer, Elphaba. Remember that all your pro-Animal changes have made enemies as well as friends, and while you have half the Gale Force to protect you in the Emerald Palace, _we_ aren't nearly so secure."

It was meant as a guilt trip, and there was just enough truth in there for it to work. "Still, Nessa, they're only rumours. It's not worth making such a drastic change over."

Nessa scowled. "Is there anything else you'd like to question about my methods, _Madame Vizier_?"

Elphaba hesitated. She hadn't meant to bring up uncomfortable topics before Boq had a chance to say his piece, but it occurred to her that a warning might soften the blow, and if Nessa was making this official anyway...

"There is, actually," she said, and put down the spoon with which she had been half-heartedly picking at her dessert. "I'm worried about the mandatory dismissal clause you've added to employment regulations."

To her credit, Nessa's face remained impassive. In a perfectly innocent voice she said, "I thought I'd explained that when I wrote to inform you about the change."

She was also a very good liar. Both she and Elphaba knew perfectly well that no such letter had ever been sent, and Elphaba felt slightly... cornered. She had never been as good with subtle words games as her sister, so she replied directly: "You never told me about it at all. I didn't know until I came here."

Now Nessa did react; she stiffened, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who told you?"

"Boq."

Nessa sucked in a breath, her face turning white and then red, and her expression darkened. Frex watched her, puzzled and concerned. "Nessa, dear? What's wrong?"

She ignored him. "And what, exactly, did Boq say to you, _Elphaba_?"

"That you made that change so he couldn't leave without your consent."

Nessa's jaw clenched. "And you believed that?"

"I hate to say it, Nessa, but I can imagine you doing something like that if you were desperate. I don't see any other reason for you to have made such a change."

"It was _prudent_," Nessa spat. "I was making sure no employers could suffer business losses by having their staff desert them without notice."

Frex was somewhat confused, but he said to Elphaba, "That's a valid reason."

"Father, it's _ridiculous_. Don't you see the potential for someone to abuse that power? Boq tells me he's been asking to leave for months and was denied every time. There's nothing 'valid' about that; that breaks every ethical rule there _is_, and ruins everything I've been trying to accomplish." Frex seemed unmoved, so she tried another tactic. "Didn't you say yourself, at Lurlinemas, that it's wrong to try to force anyone to love you?"

His brow furrowed. "I told you not to misuse your magic."

"The method makes no difference," argued Elphaba. "You said I have a 'moral duty'. Doesn't Nessa have one, too? Or is it all right for _her_ to try forcing someone to love her?"

"It's not the same," protested Nessa. "Boq _wants_ to stay with me."

Elphaba looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief. "He doesn't," she replied softly. "He's packing to leave right now."

"_What?_" With a rough shove, Nessa pushed her chair back from the table and spun her wheels, heading for the dining room door. "_Boq_!" she shouted. "_BOQ!_"

"Nessa–"

"Nessa, dear–"

"_BOQ!_"

The door opened before Nessa reached it. Boq had apparently been waiting nearby – rehearsing, probably, if the scraps of paper in his hand were anything to go by – and let himself in with no small amount of reluctance. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but rather the bright clothes normal for a Munchkinlander, and Nessa stopped cold at the sight. "Boq..." she breathed. "What are you doing?"

Drawing a deep breath and glancing at Elphaba, avoiding Frex, Boq looked at Nessa and carefully said, "Nessa, I care about you. You're my friend. But I don't love you, and I don't want to be here. I want to go home."

As he spoke, he managed to keep a calm, steady tone that came across as both reasonable and kind, and which would probably have worked very well if Nessa hadn't cried, "_No!_ No, Boq, you _have_ to stay! You can't leave me!"

"You don't need me, Nessa," he said, "and I can't stay locked in this house."

"It was only for a little while – until you realised–"

"I _don't love you_."

"–we're _meant_ to be together!"

Boq said nothing, just watched her quietly, showing the one emotion that Nessa could never stand: pity. He let out a long breath and looked at Elphaba, who nodded and reached into her pocket for the papers. "You did your best," she said.

He took them, and looked back at his Madame Governor. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes flickered between his face, the papers, and Elphaba, and suddenly she realised what had happened. "_NO!_ NO, you _can't_–"

"Goodbye, Nessa."

"_NO!_"

She lunged, grabbing for him, but Boq was already scrambling away, backing out the door and slamming it behind him. His pounding footsteps could be heard sprinting down the hall.

Nessa screamed. "_BOQ! _Boq, WAIT! _WAIT, come BACK!_" She rolled herself towards the door, trying in vain to pull it open with her own heavy chair blocking the way, shouting all the time. "_Open the door!_ Someone OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Frex moved towards her, to help or comfort, but Nessa ignored him, arms flailing as she hauled futilely at the handle, and then Elphaba took hold of the chair and pulled it in the other direction.

"Let _go_! LET GO OF ME, ELPHABA! _FATHER!_ Father, _stop him_! _BRING HIM BACK!_"

For the first time in her life, Frex hesitated. It was a painful, horrible moment for him: For all that he'd indulged his daughter's fancies, he'd also always believed her to be perfect – pious, generous and, above all, honest. But before this day he'd scarcely heard about Boq, nor had it ever occurred to him that his beautiful child might have had other, less respectable motives behind her suggestions. He was not, however, so wilfully blind to her faults that he failed to see them now: Elphaba was right, however much he might hate it, and suddenly his strict morals were in conflict with a father's love for his child.

The only reason Nessa never realised he wouldn't have helped her was because Elphaba chose that moment to step around the chair and block her path to the door. "Nessa–"

"HOW _COULD_ YOU?" she howled. "HOW COULD YOU _DO_ THIS TO ME?"

Her voice was soft. "It had to be done."

Nessa's mouth hung open in furious horror. "You're my _sister_," she breathed. "You're supposed to _help_ me!"

"Nothing either of us can do will make Boq love you," Elphaba said quietly. "You have to let him go. I'm sorry, Nessa–"

"You're _horrible!_" shrieked Nessa, flinging herself backwards and nearly rolling over her father's toes. "You're a _horrible_ sister! You _never_ _do ANYTHING_ for me – EVER! You have so much power and magic and you _never do anything for ME!_"

"Nessa... I _love_ you."

"_GET OUT!_"

"Ness–"

"_OUT!_ I don't _EVER_ want to see you again!"

"But–"

"Elphaba," said Frex, "you've done enough." He knelt beside Nessa and reached out to give her an awkward hug over the arm of her chair. His cold stare informed Elphaba that, quite simply, she was no longer welcome in his house.

With nothing left but her duty, Elphaba said, "Father, I need your word that Nessa won't–"

"Munchkinland will obey the Wizard's law," he replied flatly. "And that of his Grand Vizier."

Elphaba nodded sharply, aware that this was all she would get, and backed away towards the door. She opened it quietly, watching as Nessa began to sob on her father's shoulder, asking over and over, why, why, _why_? Why did no one love her? What was so awful? What was _wrong_ with her? Frex shushed her and stroked her hair, and reached out to pull a silver hand-mirror from her side, holding it up and showing that she was beautiful, brave, perfect ...

Elphaba closed the door and leaned her head against it. Through the wood she could still hear his gentle words, his assurances, slowly soothing Nessa's tears. She covered her face with her hands.

"Miss Elphaba?"

Brynna. She was waiting nearby, hands twisted together, sorrowful. "She didn't mean it, Miss Elphaba. Give her time."

Elphaba nodded slowly, closing her eyes and taking firm control of her shuddering breath. "I know," she said. "But it... it hurts anyway. She's my sister."

"And she couldn't ask for a better one," said the older woman, taking the liberty of giving her mistress a little hug. "Your family loves you, Miss Elphaba; even your father, deep down. They just don't... understand it."

It would be nice if that were enough. Elphaba just closed her eyes, accepting the embrace and trying not to cry herself. "I have to go," she said in a tight voice. "Back to the city, now. I can't stay here."

"No, I suppose you can't," said Brynna, patting her back and gently guiding her away from the dining room. "Come. I'll get you a hot drink and arrange for your carriage and driver."

"Thank you."

Brynna smiled softly at her, fondly, and after a moment she said, "Your mother would be proud, you know. She would never have stood for such a thing."

It was meant as a distraction, and Elphaba accepted gratefully. "I thought she didn't care about her duties; she always left them up to Father."

"Oh, she hated _running_ the show," said Brynna, "but she cared. She cared about fairness, and happiness, and would never have let your father and sister to treat you so badly. She loved you."

Elphaba nodded and tried to smile. "So I've been told."

Brynna hesitated, glanced back at the closed doors, and said, "Let me show you."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Elphaba was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a hot chocolate while Brynna was ordering her staff about, sending for Elphaba's driver and bodyguard and instructing the cook to prepare a large basket of travel food. She made no attempt to hide her additions of extra sweets and sumpai fruits, Elphaba's childhood favourite, and then vanished into a back room for a few minutes, returning with a small wooden box.

"We were cleaning the attic last month," she explained quietly. "After the Madame died your father had all her things put away, and when we found them he gave most to your sister–" she looked apologetic "–but these were to be thrown out, and I thought you'd like to have them. Here."

She unwrapped and handed over a small pile of photographs. They were large, meant for display, and every one of them showed Melena and Elphaba laughing and playing, covered in cracked remnants of coloured paint.

"Your mother wanted to show that colour didn't matter," Brynna explained to the startled woman. "She said you were beautiful."

Elphaba slowly leafed through the pictures, studying each one intently and trying to drink in every detail. Some were posed very properly, with mother and daughter sitting beside each other, but as they went on, they became sillier. Elphaba's two-year old self was standing, smiling, laughing, and reaching up to wave at the camera. She gleefully showed off her red-painted skin and snuggled up against her mother's cheek, several times cradling a green-and-gold doll against her shamelessly bare chest, but it was the images of Melena that truly took her daughter's breath away.

The look on her face was heartbreaking. That said face was caked in green only made it sweeter. Melena obviously adored her daughter – in every shot she was hugging her, tickling her, kissing her, or playing with her. In one picture she was teasing Elphaba's hair into ridiculous tufts, and in another they were each kissing one cheek of the toy, which looked, up close, to be a stuffed scarecrow.

"I have the doll here, too," said Brynna, unwrapping a cloth bundle and handing it over; "they were all packed up at the same time. It was once your father's."

Elphaba took the little thing, running her fingertips over its frayed edges and painted face. "I don't remember this," she said quietly.

"You loved it," Brynna told her. "I think you named it Mister Cottoncrow."

That drew a little laugh. "Makes sense," said Elphaba. "He's a cotton scarecrow."

"You slept with him every night until your mother died," added Brynna fondly. "Then you..." she hesitated. "Well, you thought he might make Nessa happy enough to stop crying."

Elphaba faltered, hands tightening just for a second, but she nodded. "I wish it were that easy now."

Brynna squeezed her shoulder. "Give it time," she said again. "I'll write to you, if you like, until she comes around. But until then..."

"Until then, I'll stay in the City, and wait," Elphaba said in a resigned voice. She stood up, carefully gathering the doll and pictures. "Thank you, Brynna."

"Any time, dear," she replied quietly. "Let's get you on your way."


	13. A Rainy Night in the Emerald City

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen  
_A Rainy Night in the Emerald City_

Year 22  
Autumn

"Do you think they're back yet?"

Oscar Diggs was peering out the window of his obscenely warm, red-walled suite _again_, and had asked this question four times in the last hour. He had good reason – it was a cold, wet, blustery day in the Emerald City, made all the worse by icy winds blowing in from the eastern Madeleines Mountains. Winter was coming early, and while those inside had no more to worry about than a persistent drumming noise in the background, Elphaba and Glinda had gone out that morning to work, and should have long since been home.

In all fairness, they hadn't gone far; a few days ago a ruffled but fairly unimportant district attorney had personally delivered to his Grand Vizier a letter filled with flowing, eloquent phrases that basically boiled down to, "We don't trust the judge on this case and want you to settle it – in our favour". Oscar had been thrilled, all but bouncing as he went on about how wonderful it was that the Ozian people were starting to see any judgement of Elphaba's as a guarantee of fairness, but as dusk began to fall and the pounding rain turned to hail, that joy ebbed, and he took to peering out into the blurry darkness, muttering the same worried questions to himself over and over again.

From behind him there was a muffled sigh, and Fiyero said, "They'll be _fine_. Glinda probably just got carried away with her consolation speech again."

Oscar glanced back to where the Vinkun was sitting with Chistery and Selky at his sitting room table, studying the old, worn-out playing cards they'd talked him into fetching. None of them seemed particularly troubled.

When Oscar still hesitated, Fiyero looked up and added, "They have a guard with them. Besides, neither of them is going to be outside in this weather – Glinda's outfit is brand new."

At that Oscar chuckled, as he was meant to, and let the curtain drop. "All right, all right, I'll stop fretting," he promised, returning to the table. "Do you think you understand the rules now?"

Fiyero grinned and nodded brightly, but the Monkeys weren't so sure. They had been toying with Oscar's deck of cards and scuffed wooden betting chips for a while now, after they'd been mentioned while chatting about the differences between Ozian card games and those that their Wizard knew from his homeland. Oscar, who had never had a chance to learn about something so commonplace as games while in Oz, found them to be in some ways very strange (_round_ cards?), but they had the same basic themes of betting and bluffing. Fiyero, who had long since grown bored with all Ozian varieties, had been almost puppyish with excitement at the chance to learn a new one.

Chistery shifted awkwardly in his chair, eyes wide as he looked over the jumble of face-up pictures and little painted discs. "Not sure," he answered. "All confusing."

Patiently, Oscar asked, "Do you remember the different sets I showed you in our practice game?"

"Hearts, diamonds, clubs, spates," said Selky, lazily stretching a wing as she randomly pointed to one of each suit.

"Spa_d_es," corrected Fiyero, who was lining up the diamonds in numerical order. "Where does the ace go?"

"Either end. I've always played it as the highest card," said Oscar, glancing at the setup. "And the queen should be below the king."

Fiyero, who – despite his own inheritance – had always learned of kings as the less-important husbands of ruling queens, shook his head. "That's _strange_."

Oscar paused, considered it, and shrugged. "Well, I suppose we could change it. This isn't Kansas, after all."

"You ruled by kings in Kansas?" asked Chistery.

"Well..." Oscar hesitated, trying to work out how to explain states and presidents and tea taxes, then replied, "Something like that."

"No wizard?" the Monkey asked curiously. Oscar shook his head.

"Where _do_ wizards fit into this game?" Fiyero asked with a grin, sweeping up the funny rectangular cards to shuffle. His hands had trouble adjusting to the shape.

"Er... the joker, I guess," said Oscar, gesturing to two cards he'd discarded earlier. Fiyero laughed outright and the magic-less wizard grinned sheepishly. "Or the jack. I've never figured out what he's supposed to be."

"What this game is called again?" asked Selky.

"'Poker'," said Oscar, rescuing his old cards from Fiyero's mangling and shuffling them himself at high speed. "There are names for all the different varieties, but I never bothered learning them; this is just the one I was taught. Ready?"

Chistery was examining his chips and had to be asked twice, but the others nodded. Oscar dealt the down-cards silently, then began placing the next round face-up, starting on his left. "Eight," he said, putting said diamond down in front of Fiyero. "Ace–" (that one was Chistery's) "–queen–" (Selky's) "–and... four" (his own). "Now, Chistery? Your card is worth the most, see? So you get to decide if you want to start a bet."

The Monkey paused, uncertain, hand hovering over his upside-down card. "I can look?" he asked.

"Yes – but only you," cautioned Oscar. "Make sure to hide it from us. Now, if those two cards could make one of the sets I told you about earlier, then it's a good idea to bet. If not, you can pass."

Chistery did look, paused again, and counted on his fingers a few times before shaking his head. "Not bet."

"All right, then we go again," said Oscar, and dealt a second round of face-up cards, going around the table in the same order. "Ten... seven... queen... nine," he announced.

"So it's Selky's turn," Fiyero said, and he knew he was right. Oscar nodded anyway, and the lady Chimp smiled.

"Pair queens," she said. "I win?"

"Not yet; you just have the highest hand we can see. No one knows what's on other people's down-cards. But you can start a bet, if you want."

Selky shrugged and tossed a random chip into the middle of the table.

"Er..." Oscar looked at Fiyero, who was amused, then at the Chimps who, despite their incredible learning speed, had never actually used money. "That one is worth one hundred."

Selky looked at him blankly.

Grinning, Fiyero leaned back in his chair and said, "I'll match you," tossing a chip of equal value into the pot. Oscar, who had _so_ been looking forward to a real game – his first in twenty-five years – shot the prince a _look_. Fiyero shrugged. "It's not real money."

"All right, all right," grumbled the Wizard, adding his own chip. "One hundred it is. Chistery?"

Once Chistery's counter was in, Oscar dealt again. "Jack... four... deuce – oh, sorry, Selky; didn't mean to confuse you – _two_, and... six."

"More hundreds!" cried Selky happily, throwing in two chips.

Oscar winced. "Selky... that's a _lot_ of mon–"

"Five hundreds!" declared her brother, pushing over his pile of counters with a gleeful – and rather competitive – grin. Oscar sighed.

"It's not your turn, Chistery," Fiyero explained languidly, matching the bet anyway. "You have to wait for us to decide if we're going to match her bet or raise it ourselves."

"You raise?"

"_No_," said Oscar quickly. "No, no raise – I'll match," he added, more calmly, putting in the required hundred-counters before dealing the final round. "Seven, and a possible straight," he said, giving Fiyero his last card, "a jack for you, Chistery – no help there, I'm afraid... an eight for the lady, and... five for the dealer."

"More two hundred." Selky was clearly enjoying this. Oscar shook his head.

"Too rich for my blood," he muttered, flipping all his cards upside-down. Fiyero grinned.

"Your two hundred," he said, "and one thousand more."

"_Thousand_?" said Oscar.

Fiyero chuckled, shrugging. Selky busied herself counting out hundreds, but Chistery, who had lost a lot in the practice game, looked mournfully at his little pile of chips and pushed away the cards, saying, "I lose."

"'Fold'," corrected Oscar. "But you haven't lost, you can play again next time." He paused, then asked, "Selky, would you like some help?" When she levelled a glare at him and replied that she was _perfectly_ able to count, he amended, "I meant with the cards. He _might_ have a straight, and that would beat a pair of queens – or even three queens, if that's what your last card is – but if his down-card is _not_ a nine, then his hand is useless and your queens win. So you have to decide if he's bluffing."

Selky frowned and examined her last opponent, who smiled charmingly and gave nothing away. "Two thousands more," she announced boldly, pushing said chips into play along with those that matched his raise. Oscar shook his head – symbolic or no, that was a _ridiculous_ amount of money.

Fiyero was far too rich to care, and as he'd said, it wasn't real anyway. "Two thousand," he agreed, taking a handful of old wooden chips, "and three thousand more."

Oscar eyed him for a moment. "You do _not_ have a straight."

"No?" Fiyero challenged lightly, loving this. "That's up to Selky. Her money."

Selky studied him, then said, "Three thousands – calling." She pushed the counters forward. "We show cards now?"

Oscar nodded and flipped Selky's down-card for her. It was a three, and useless. They looked at Fiyero.

He had a five. "Take it."

Squealing, Selky reached out with her long arms to scoop up the entire pile, chanting, "I win I win I win I win I win!"

"Yes, you win," said Oscar, patting her shoulder fondly and sharing a glance with a perfectly untroubled Fiyero. "Well done."

She grinned.

Chistery, on the other hand, was sour about missing out on all the fun, and after watching for a moment while his sister gathered her winnings, pointedly said, "It late, Selky. Bed time."

"Not tired!" she chirped.

"Bed time for small ones," he replied, launching himself into the air. "You their auntie, you sing to them. Come on, home time."

Selky muttered something rude (which she certainly had not learned from Elphaba), but finished stacking the counters and – after wrangling a promise from Oscar that she would have _all_ her chips back next time – flew out the door after her brother.

Fiyero gathered the cards. "Again?" he asked.

"Please," said Oscar, his gaze wandering back to the window, "only let's keep to reasonable stakes this time."

The younger man chuckled, but nodded. "Speaking of which, the census results are in. It looks like we scared Earl Garllon into line after all."

Oscar looked back, pleasantly surprised. "The one who was underpaying his Animal workers?"

"They're not underpaid anymore," replied Fiyero, looking extremely pleased with himself. "All ninety-two of them got a 'bonus' the week before our census which upped their year's income to just above the legal requirement." He paused in his card shuffling to glance at Oscar, looking cheeky. "I pretended not to know and told him it was so _good_ of him to treat his workers like that, and that I'd be glad to tell everyone, including you, that he was doing it... _every_ year."

Oscar laughed, just imagining the earl's reaction, and clapped Fiyero on the shoulder. "Well done, son," he said. "_Well_ done."

Fiyero grinned.

They continued to play for another hour, with increasing finesse and boldness, until Oscar no longer felt the need to hold back for sake of a less experienced player. He pretended to, of course, for that was part of the fun, but whatever bluffing games the young prince had learned to play before this, he must have been very, very good. By the time a sodden green carriage rolled and splashed its way through the north gates below, the men were deeply engrossed in their match, both furiously trying to outwit the other while still holding a perfectly pleasant conversation about the population problems in Qhoyre. It was thrilling, addictive, and absolutely delightful.

When Glinda let herself into the sitting room about ten minutes later, the first thing she heard was Fiyero's incredulous voice crying, "A _pair of THREES_?"

Brow furrowed, she stepped further in and saw Oscar chuckling as he gathered up a large pile of circular wooden chips. Fiyero was slumped forward on his elbows, groaning as he stared at something on the table. "I had a _flush_," he complained, "and you bluffed me with _threes_."

"That'll teach you to throw around so much money at once," replied the Wizard happily, and Glinda, who had once played Mobra-ka against Fiyero and lost spectacularly, laughed as she understood.

"And here I thought you two were working," she said, closing the door behind her. They looked up, Fiyero with amusement and Oscar with profound relief.

"Glinda!" he said, quickly standing up. "When did you get back? Where's Elphaba? Was everything all right?"

"Oh – fine," said Glinda, a little startled as she took off her cherry-red overcoat. "It all went fine, really, it just took forever. Elphie'll come soon," she added as Oscar glanced at the closed door behind her. "She just wanted to stop in the library to get some notes for that bridge-building project that's been troubling her."

Fiyero looked puzzled, glancing at the mostly-but-not-entirely-reassured Oscar before saying, "I thought the cabinet put off that question until next week's meeting."

"You know Elphie," said Glinda, rolling her eyes as she joined them at the table, "she never _stops_. Really, Fiyero, we have to take her out to town again soon or else she'll start forgetting what fun _is_."

"She is all right, though?" asked Oscar.

"Fine," said Glinda, eyes flitting over the strange cards and chips on the table; "just a bit worried about all the work we delayed in order to settle this case – which was quite dull, to be honest."

"Oh?"

Glinda nodded, looking tired as she poured herself some of the thin, pinkish liquid Oscar and Fiyero had been drinking – it was Gillikinese spring wine, a gift from her grandfather, Lord Arduenna. "We were already pretty sure we'd be supporting the judge's original decision just from reading the court transcripts, but then the lawyer who wrote to Elphie in the first place started making a fuss – I think he just didn't want anyone to have the impression that we'd been called out there for nothing. He insisted on re-examining _every_ bit of evidence, twice, and dragged it on and on and..." she sighed. "Well, we finished eventually, and Elphie made it very clear why we did what we did and why it was fair, so I think it went well." She paused, taking a long sip of the fresh liquid, then looked up hopefully. "Have you two had dinner yet?"

"No," said Oscar, "I told the cooks to wait for you to get back. They should be bringing it soon."

"Mmm, good. I'm hungry," said Glinda, sitting back in her chair. "In the _meantime_, however," she added with a rather mischievous grin, "I think I want to learn this game. Anything Fiyero can still lose at is _more_ than worth a try."

Fiyero grumbled and made a face, and the Wizard chuckled.

* * *

Some hours later, after both his young guests had yawned and wandered off to their own rooms for the night, Oscar Diggs remained in his, restless and unable to even prepare for sleep. He and Glinda and Fiyero had played cards for over two hours, stopping to eat dinner and wonder aloud if maybe they should go and look for Elphaba, who never did turn up. But, given her usual attitude towards interruptions (a gruff "yes, I'm fine – go away" was usually the best one could hope for), they left it, sending her plate back to the kitchen and trusting that she would eat in her own time. This was far from unusual behaviour for Elphaba, after all, and even Oscar had learned to let it go when she chose to devote her evenings to work rather than spending time with them. Tonight, however...

Tonight was a little different. Although he'd known all along it was silly, the awful weather had worried him into imagining all the bad things that might have happened to his daughter and dear Glinda during their journey to the edge of town. It was stupid, he knew, a complete overreaction, because nothing _had_ happened, but some stubborn and strange parental instinct just would not let him curl up and sleep without at least having _seen_ his daughter.

After puttering about for twenty minutes, cleaning up cards and used glasses, Oscar finally sighed, admitted that this was a bad idea, and set off in search of the library.

He went, however, with a fair amount of hesitation. Aside from knowing how Elphaba was most likely to react to anyone checking up on her, it was quite possible that he might not be able to find her at all – simply put, the palace library was _huge_.

Officially known as "the Royal Archives", it was the resting place for all the country's legal records and every original historical text not owned by Quox or Shiz, but it also held copies of every non-fiction book ever published in Oz, and most fictitious ones as well. It was a winding, ever-growing maze established centuries earlier, and at night, when most lamps were dark and the quiet turned to total silence, it was all but impossible to find a lone person sitting at one of the many reading desks between winding rows of shelves, or tucked into a chair in a dimly-lit corner. That, of course, was why Elphaba liked it.

Thankfully, Oscar managed to find her without having to shout. There were still a few maids wandering about, straightening chairs or picking up rubbish from less-than-tidy ministers and judges who used the place in daytime, and by following their quiet instructions Oscar made his way to the third level of the west wing, where the last four centuries worth of civil licenses and permits were kept.

He found her sitting at a hard-edged desk covered in books and papers, staring blankly through her glasses at some scribbled notes while dried and crusted ink crumbled from the forgotten quill in her hand. In the flickering candlelight, her face was a weary yellow, and she looked far more tired than he'd expected, or ever even witnessed. Oscar stepped closer, hesitantly, but she didn't notice, and didn't move – even her eyes were still, not really seeing anything.

"Elphaba?" he said softly. "Elphaba?"

She jerked and blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut and give her head a little shake. "What time is it?" she asked, in a dry, unused voice.

"About midnight. We were... well," he admitted, "I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," she replied, eyes now refocused on the papers. "I'm just... not done yet."

Oscar hesitated, but said, "Elphaba, you've been here for hours."

"I'm not done."

"But maybe if you rest for a whi–"

"I'm not _done_," she snapped, jerking an arm at him, and some papers fluttered lightly to the ground. Watching them, she sighed and dropped her head into her hands. "I keep finding loopholes in the phrasing of that free marriage law we're trying to pass," she said, groaning. "There's also a new case to review for the supreme court, a presentation I have to write for the next cabinet meeting, a property claim I promised Baron Appleton I'd consider, who-knows-how-many new petition letters to read, and I haven't even _seen_ the bridge proposal yet. I _can't _stop _now_."

"Elphaba, you're exhausted," said Oscar, and she let out a harsh, strained bark of laughter. Taking the last few steps to her desk, he reached out to touch her shoulder. "You can't keep doing this."

"It's my job," she replied dully. "I promised."

"Baron Appleton can wait. You're the Grand Vizier – you shouldn't be running to do favours for _him_."

Her eyes flashed, but she was too tired for this argument. "I don't want anyone in Oz to think I don't have time for them. I promised I'd always help."

Oscar shook his head. "No one thinks you aren't," he said, "but that doesn't mean you should be at their beck and call, either. When did you get the letter about that case you just ruled on? A few days ago? Elphaba, you could have made them wait _weeks _and it wouldn't have made a difference. Please, take some time off," he urged. "You need it."

She shook her head, taking off her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. "How can I ask other people to do their best for Oz if _I'm not_?"

Kneeling beside her chair – and swearing he would never admit to how much his knees ached because of it – Oscar took her hand. "Elphaba," he said, quietly, "_no one_ works themselves harder than you do. No one. People like Appleton spend half their time acting like they have better things to do than work, and they all take time to rest. I know you're strong, but you don't have to be _this_ strong. By this time next year, no one will care if you've taken a day off."

A sigh escaped her. "They'd care now. I can't just say I'm tired – that's no excuse."

"So tell them that the Wizard had a very urgent matter to discuss with you. I could use a day off, too."

Her face smoothed into a little smile, but she shook her head. "I'd be lying."

"We could make it true. Glinda's birthday is coming up and I have no idea what to get for her."

The smile widened and she even let out a brief laugh. "True," she said, "but... I shouldn't."

"It might be safer," Oscar warned cheerfully, seeing that he was winning. "Your friends are conspiring to take you out to town soon anyway, and I don't think they'll be shy about forcing it. Better to go willingly."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of pretending I'm working with you?"

"Ah. True. I suppose I'll have to face the cabinet anyway," he replied lightly, but then his smile faded, and his tone turned serious. "Please, Elphaba. I worry about you. At least come and eat something."

Rubbing her face, she sighed. "All right," she said, and Oscar let out a long breath. Smiling – for she did appreciate his concern, much as it could irritate her – Elphaba added, "And _if_ I can, I'll take tomorrow off, too."

"That's all I ask," said Oscar. "Just promise me you'll have fun."

"I'll try."

Smiling, Oscar patted her hand, then offered his own. She took it, and stood up, and after pausing to pack away her papers and stack the books (librarians would re-shelve them all by morning), the unlikely pair slowly made their way towards the dining room. Along the way Oscar stopped a passing servant, sending him to bring a substitute meal and large pot of hot milk from the kitchens. By the time they reached the red-walled, fire-lit room, Elphaba's mind had set aside all of her pressing work, and she was relaxed.

Over the past year this room, though it was actually attached to Oscar's private suite, had become a communal spot for their little group. It was informal, unassuming and, above all, private. Secrets about the Wizard's lack of power and Elphaba's demands could be freely mentioned in here, and although Oscar and Glinda had little trouble with moving between public and private personas at a moment's notice, Fiyero didn't care for it and Elphaba hated lies. Therefore, as long as the doors were closed she was comfortable, and on this evening she had no trouble walking in ahead of her host and dropping down in a comfortable armchair by the fire.

Oscar joined her, settling quietly in the other chair while she stretched her stiff limbs and warmed them in front of the flames. For a while they sat in companionable silence, waiting for the food, until Elphaba asked, "Did they actually _say_ they'd drag me out?"

"Hmm, sorry?" asked the Wizard, whose mind had wandered. "What?"

"Fiyero and Glinda. Did they say they were going to take me to town soon?"

"Glinda suggested it, and I think they'll both end up taking the day off tomorrow, but nothing definite. Why do you ask?"

"Glinda's birthday; I need to get her something too. If all three of us go out together, Fiyero and I can take turns distracting her so the other can shop."

Oscar chuckled. "I take it she's already suspicious?"

"I don't think so, she's just so perceptive," Elphaba replied with quiet fondness. "It's happened before – her already knowing what I've bought, that is. Last year was the first time I was able to surprise her, and I'd never have managed without Fiyero's help," she added, torn between mild frustration and the cheeky joy of sneaking around to do something nice for her friend. "Anyway, I could look for things for you to give, if you like."

"Actually, I think I'll have something custom-made," he replied. "Something unique. She'd like that."

"Jewellery, then?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "I'm not sure what else she'd really enjoy."

At that point there was a knock on the door, and as Elphaba considered his words, Oscar got up to answer it. When returned a minute later with the dinner tray, she said, "What she'd most _enjoy_, I think, would be if we threw her a party."

He paused, eyes lighting up. "A surprise party?"

"If we could manage it, yes," said Elphaba, and lifted the cover from her plate. The rich, wonderful smell of hot pie hit them both, and Elphaba, suddenly realising how hungry she was, took a large forkful before realising that she hadn't finished her sentence. She chewed anyway, savouring the taste despite her hurry, and Oscar watched with pleasure for a minute until swallowed and said, "What?"

"Nothing, nothing... It's just good to see you enjoying it. You don't indulge in things very often."

She shrugged, for it was true enough, and took another bite. "I really shouldn't have skipped dinner. Anyway, Glinda would love a surprise. She expects presents – we'd never _not_ give them, after all – but she hasn't had a real party since we left Shiz."

"We've had cake and wine every year since the three of you moved in," replied Oscar, spooning flakes of chocolate into cups of milk for them both.

"Yes, but you know Glinda," Elphaba said between forkfuls; "she likes things _big_. I hate to say it, but the best present we could give her would probably be to organise some fancy event in her name – invite her family, friends from Shiz, and let all those 'important' social people come to congratulate her."

The Wizard chuckled. "You sound like you're signing your own death warrant."

She rolled her eyes. "I can survive one night of mindless chatter with a flock of stupid people if it will make her happy."

"I know it would, Elphaba," he said, smiling. "That's very good of you."

Not quite comfortable with such open affection from him, of all people, she just went back to her food, alternating between it and sips of the hot chocolate. Oscar watched her, thinking, then softly said, "We've never talked like this before, have we?"

Elphaba paused mid-sip, feeling the atmosphere of the room change. "No, I guess not," she said, setting down the cup. "Not without Glinda or Fiyero to... smooth it over."

"Hmm, no," he said, gazing into the fire, and Elphaba was struck by how very old he looked, how sad. "I wish things were different between us," he said quietly. "I wish I'd had the chance to be your father."

Her gaze dropped. _That_ was why she'd always avoided being alone with him.

"I know you can't have two fathers," he went on, eyes and voice still distant, "and I know you've never really liked me–"

"It's not _you_," she interrupted, hating both the guilt welling in her gut and the circumstances causing it. "You're... nice. You're funny and intelligent and kind. I like you. But I can never forget what you've _done_."

Oscar closed his eyes, but did not turn to her.

"You're responsible for everything I'm trying to undo," she explained. "That's... hard to forgive."

"I didn't start it," he said, but without any of the fire that would have made it easier for her to argue – he was putting up no defences at all. "The bigotry was already there. I just used it. And..." he let out a breath and turned to face her. "Elphaba, it wasn't unfounded. There were extremist groups of Animals trying very hard to overthrow all human authority. I'm almost certain one of them was responsible for killing Queen Ozma and her daughter."

"Did any of those groups include Doctor Dillamond?" she replied, trying not to sound harsh. "Was every teacher and preacher fired because they were _all_ trying to subvert order? And what about the Animals who were losing their voices, and are still afraid it might happen again?"

"I was young and stupid," Oscar said, with regret. "After I took power I never left this palace and never actually saw what was happening. I talked myself into believing there was no real harm being done. I _wish_ I could change it," he said, and to his credit he had never sounded more earnest. "I wish I could turn back the clock, but I can't."

She must have looked sceptical because he asked, "Don't you believe me?"

Her lips pressed together. "I'd like to," she said carefully, "but would you still want that if not for me? Everything you've done these past three years has been for _me_. You want me to like you."

"That doesn't mean I don't agree with what we're doing."

"Then why did you do it all in the first place?"

Oscar closed his eyes again, resting his head in the cushioning of the chair, and sighed. "In my world," he began, in the manner of one telling a long story, "animals don't talk. They never have and never will. My father taught me that God created animals to serve man, and until I came here, I believed that."

Her brow furrowed. "You don't mean the Unnamed God, do you?"

"He's unnamed, I guess, but we just call him 'God'. I think they're different. We've talked about religion before, haven't we?" he asked, and she nodded – they had, a few months ago, though not in much depth. "Well, I'd never met Talking Animals until I came here, and then only rarely. I was always surrounded by humans – biased humans, but I didn't know that then. They told me Animals were inherently dangerous and I believed them. I didn't have any reason not to. I didn't know a thing about Ozian history or society, and the facts I did have about what happened during the Great Drought didn't help. Last week you said something about it being horribly bad manners to ask a Bull about their horns, right? You learn that sort of thing from childhood. I never did."

To his profound relief, Elphaba did not frown on this blatant ignorance, but considered it and seemed to find it fair. "Why did you never try to learn?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I never realised it was there to _be_ learned. And... I was busy. I was completely swept away by my fame. You must understand what that's like, Elphaba," he implored. "I'd never been more than mediocre, and I'd accepted that, and suddenly everyone was calling me 'wonderful'. _Everyone_." He held up his hands, shrugging again. "It turned my head."

"That's not an excuse," she said, without venom.

"No," he agreed quietly, "but it is an explanation. And I've tried to do better. For you, yes, but also because now I know I was wrong. I want to fix things. Can't you forgive me? I'm trying my best."

Elphaba looked away. "It doesn't change what you did."

"Nothing _will_," said Oscar. "Does that mean I can never do good again? That I'm always going to be a horrible person?"

"No," she said quietly. "Of course not."

Sensing, quite accurately, that she was at a loss, Oscar reached out across the armrests and took both her hands. "Elphaba," he said, "the day we met I said I would do anything for you. I meant it. I know that being my daughter means nothing to you–" and there she moved to speak, to protest that it didn't mean _nothing_, exactly, but he went on, "–but I love you, and it would mean a lot to me if I had your forgiveness."

Elphaba closed her eyes. It was hard for her, listening to all this, for much as she liked Oscar – and she _did_ like him, in a cautious sort of way – she found it very difficult to separate a person from the actions they had taken. For her, the things people did were important; they defined character, in a way one's thoughts or spoken words never could. When she was little, she had learned that Frex was good because he took care of her, that she was bad because she had caused her mother's death, and that the Wizard was wonderful because of the wonderful things he did. In her mind, these things never changed; they had simply faded, until life could move on without their shackles. To accept that the Wizard – that Oscar – could be a good person who had done terrible things was... hard.

But then, Glinda had once been very cruel to her. Fiyero, not so long ago, had been the kind of silly rich boy she despised. They had changed. She'd forgiven them for those faults, just as they – though she didn't know it – had forgiven her for being cold and judgemental. People could change, even if the after-effects of their actions did not. Fiyero's reputation still haunted him, though it had lessened, and Glinda's nasty gift of the hat had fortunately turned into a much-loved symbol of their friendship. The consequences of Oscar's actions were a lot worse, but that didn't mean he deserved to be treated more harshly. He _had_ changed.

So, quietly, and with her hands still gently squeezed under his, Elphaba said, "I forgive you."


	14. Good Deeds

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen  
_Good Deeds_

Year 23  
Spring

Elphaba rolled over in bed, grumbling under her breath and thumping the pillow that refused to lump comfortably under her head. She couldn't sleep. The room was too hot, its fireplace still a happily crackling yellow, and her mind was filled with worries.

The vast majority of legal changes she had demanded almost four years ago had finally finished being integrated into Ozian law, and as Oscar had warned, they had led to a backlash of other, less predictable problems. It was becoming sadly clear that, no matter how firmly she stood or how kindly Glinda lectured, some people were simply _refusing_ to let go of their bias. Thankfully this stubbornness hadn't asserted itself as violence – there had been a handful of scuffles and a few more vicious incidents, but for a country the size of Oz, that was impressively low. Instead there were quieter, sneakier methods at work – ones which, strictly speaking, were not illegal at all.

Human employers, for example, who conducted interviews as part of their selection process, were refusing to hire Animals on the basis of minor and usually very subjective faults. This trick, and others like it, had caused the number of letters ending up on Elphaba's desk to triple in the last month or so, and tension throughout the country was slowly mounting. It was a tricky problem: she could hardly deny employers the right to evaluate potential staff, but neither could she write a thousand little laws to fill each potential loophole. _Something_ had to be done, though, and as she lay curled in the sheets well after midnight, Elphaba thought through option after option, looking for something, _anything_, worrying endlessly about _how_ she was _ever_ going to–

A warm hand snaked its way around her from behind, covering her eyes, and Fiyero kissed the back of her neck.

The tension that had just been so overwhelming drained away like water. She smiled, tilting her head back and towards him as a lovely warm tingle danced its way through her body. For a moment she kept still, simply enjoying the feeling, then rolled onto her back to look at him. "I thought you were asleep," she said.

Lying on his side, propped up by one elbow, Fiyero shrugged. "I was," he replied lightly. "So were you. Then you started tossing and turning and hit my face with _this_." He lifted the ends of her long hair and raised one eyebrow. Elphaba winced.

"Sorry."

He waved it off. "Eh, didn't hurt," he said, leaning forward to kiss her ear. "But I know you; you're never restless unless you're worried about something." Another kiss, this on her jaw. "What is it?"

She hesitated, idly toying with his sleep-mussed hair, then shrugged and said, "The employment evaluations. I don't think writing a new law will work. Unless those people actually learn to accept Animals as equals, they'll just keep on–"

Suddenly he pulled back, staring at her in surprise and looking almost offended. "_That's_ what you think about when you're in bed with me?"

Elphaba blinked in surprise, but the twinkle of humour in his expression, which he was trying hard to make pathetic and wounded, made her lips turn up into a laugh. "Well, what did you think it was?" she chuckled, shifting to lie on her side and face him, cuddling close enough to promise that no harm was meant. He shrugged.

"Considering where we are and what we've been doing... oh, maybe something to do with _me_? With us as a pair?"

"But there's nothing wrong with you," she replied, lifting her head to kiss him once, twice, and then a third, lingering time. "Or with us. Why would I worry about it?"

He raised a quirky eyebrow. "So I'm perfect?" he asked, grinning.

She chuckled, but pretended to take the question seriously. "Hmmm... I'm not sure. You do have an annoying habit of stealing all the blankets."

"_This_," he pointed out, "is _my_ bed."

"And when we're in mine?" she retorted, but that question was never answered; Fiyero had decided that if he was going to be blamed for something, he might as well do it right, and started pulling all the covers towards himself. Elphaba, who had managed to twist herself up in the sheets with all that tossing and turning, was dragged along. She yelped, then tried to untangle herself from the bindings, only to realise that Fiyero was playfully wrapping his newly-seized blankets back around her in such a way that all her wriggling was only binding her more tightly in the cocoon. "Fiyero!"

He laughed, sitting back under his own share of the covers with a self-satisfied grin. "What? Now you can't _possibly_ get cold."

Elphaba, trying hard not to let her own amusement show, looked at him sternly and said, "I _can't move_." He didn't respond, and after a moment of silence she asked, "You're not going to leave me like this, are you?"

"Hmmm..." he teased, mimicking and exaggerating her habit of thoughtful chin-tapping. She glared, chewing down the laugh that was pulling on her lips, and then he chuckled. "Nah," he said, unwinding her with warm, tickling hands before pulling her into a hug and nuzzling her neck. "I couldn't. I love you too much."

She smiled against his skin, closing her eyes and happy just to listen to the sound of those words. Fiyero held on a moment longer, fingertips tracing light patterns across her back, but then he extracted himself, lying down and shuffling under the covers, looking unhappy.

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

"Eh... nothing," he said, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling, one arm bent to rest on the pillow above his head. "I have to leave in the morning," he said. "There's been another scare attack on travellers on the Yellow Brick Road and they still have no idea if it's an animal or an Animal."

"I know," said Elphaba, still puzzled as she rolled to lie on her stomach, propped up on both elbows and watching him; "I read the last report. That's not what's bothering you." When he didn't answer she shuffled closer, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him. "Fiyero, what is it?"

He sighed, seeming both relieved and reluctant to answer. "Not everything with us is perfect," he said, still looking up and away from her. "I told you I love you. I do that a lot, but you... you never say it back. Or if you do it sounds like an echo – like you have to just because I've said it. You hide. You won't even let me _touch_ you unless we're in a locked room while Glinda lets me hug her in public even though she's still madly trying to convince the press that we're not together."

Elphaba looked away miserably. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"It doesn't," he replied. "Maybe it did last year, when we were all new to this job, but things are different now. No one's going to think it's political, or that we just want each other's power. It would only be about _us_."

"That's just it!" she stressed, taking his hand and squeezing. "Fiyero, this is the first time in my life that I can walk down the street without being stared at. People see me and they _smile_ – they _thank_ me for things. You don't know what it's like when they point and whisper and..." she shook her head. "I don't know if I could stand that again."

At last he turned to her. "Elphaba," he said seriously. "That's not going to happen, all right? It's not like I'm asking you to shout it from the rooftops – I don't really care if they know or not. I just wish that you'd _act_ like you love me."

"But... you know I do," she said, brow furrowed as she ran her thumbs over the back of his hand. "I'm not... pretending, or anything. I wouldn't be here if I didn't mean it."

"I know," said Fiyero, "but sometimes it would be nice to actually hear you say it."

Her gaze dropped. She'd known, of course, that he said such things far more often than she did, and she'd known, on some level, that she really ought to be giving more back, but... it was so easy to assume that he said them because she needed hear it, whereas he was much too sure, of himself and of their relationship, to ever need such reassurance.

Apparently not. It wasn't the same, of course – he wasn't lying there trembling with insecurity – but he did _need_ something. He needed to hear the words, to be offered a gesture of affection without asking for it, and Elphaba, who rarely bothered stating the obvious herself, had never realised just how important such a thing might be.

A moment passed in silence, and she just watched his face. Then, slowly, she sat up, shifting under the blankets until she could lean over him, eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose. Carefully, deliberately, and with far more ease than she'd expected, Elphaba said, "I love you."

He smiled, a small puff of breath escaping him as he looked at her, tilting his head sideways and touching her chin. "Say it again."

Her eyes flittered away for a moment, almost shy, but she looked back at him and said, "I love you."

Fiyero smiled, lightly tracing her mouth, and lifted himself high enough to kiss her. "Again?"

She broke into a smile. "I love you."

He kissed her properly, arms snaking around her shoulders and pulling her down to him. "Again."

"I love you," breathed Elphaba, between kisses. "I love you, Fiyero. I love you. I love you..."

They didn't say much else that night.

* * *

The next day, as promised, Fiyero was up early, dressing in older and sturdier clothes than usual before gathering his things and tip-toeing out of the room, leaving Elphaba to sleep on in peace. He was heading for the palace barracks, where he had arranged to meet some of the soldiers who had been escorting a noblewoman during the most recent of these strange and unprovoked attacks.

"Attacks" might be too strong a word, though; as yet no one had been hurt, just frightened witless by an unknown being who was haunting the darker pars of the eastern forest. The first reports had filtered in months ago, nothing more than oddities to be puzzled over before being set aside in favour of more important issues. Then, a few weeks back, a more alarming claim had been made by the deputy chairman of one of the Emerald City's larger private companies. He and his wife had apparently been forced to cancel their trip to Munchkinland after some _thing_ had yowled at and threatened them as they began their journey down the Yellow Brick Road. The deputy chairman wasn't an important man, but thought he was, and had kicked up a huge fuss about the matter. The result was quite a bit of extra work for Glinda, who had spent three days smiling brightly and assuring everyone that the Wonderful Wizard and his Grand Vizier were giving the matter their full attention. The four of them had already been looking into the danger, of course, but quietly, trying not to frighten people; once the newspapers had latched onto the story, there was really no choice but to put on a big show about it, since apparently even the Captain of Guard wasn't good enough to assure fretting nobles of their safety (whether they were actually going anywhere near the forest in question or not). That meant that someone with a public and easily recognisable face would have to see it personally.

That person was Fiyero.

To be honest, he didn't mind this particular job in the slightest. It had been far too long since he'd had a chance to practice his more down-to-earth skills, and being stuck in the City for weeks on end always left him feeling stifled. He wasn't the most brilliant hunter the Arjiki could offer, but he certainly outstripped these city boys in their highly-polished, embroidered little uniforms. Besides, he was looking forward to the chance to show off, just a little.

The Captain of the Guard, a swarthy man named Belor, had been offended to hear that he was to be ousted by a _civilian_ for this venture, especially since this particular civilian had recently turned down what he considered to be a _very_ prestigious commission. That Fiyero was Heir Apparent of the Vinkus and a far more experienced tracker than Belor was irrelevant, and if it hadn't been a direct order from the Wizard, he probably would have refused to give the prince command over any of his men at all. As it was, when Fiyero stepped lightly into the barracks, dressed in dull off-greens with a practical-looking pack on his back, Belor just scowled.

A lieutenant named Cherrystone, the highest ranked of all those who would actually be travelling with Fiyero, approached with a somewhat less antagonistic expression. "Your Highness," he said, saluting. "Your team is assembled and awaiting orders."

"You lot get up early," noted Fiyero, stifling a yawn and looking around at the other men in the room, all of whom were dressed and ready – but only some, he noticed, carried rifles or supply packs; the rest were busy with what looked like daily chores. "Just how many of us are there?" he asked.

"Eight men, sir, including you and I."

Fiyero's brow raised, and he glanced sideways at Belor, who stood with his back to them, huffing over a duty list and generally acting very childish. "I take it your captain doesn't feel like sparing any more of you then he has to."

Cherrystone glanced down, evidently not wanting to be caught in a spat between two commanders. His shoulders stayed very stiff. "Captain Belor is proud to serve the Wizard as best he can. As are we, Your Highness."

"Uh huh," said Fiyero sceptically, looking over the six men who had come to stand at attention nearby. All of them, with the possible exception of Cherrystone, seemed... young. _Really_ young. Maybe not always in terms of age, but they all had the look of fresh-faced rookies just out of training. Hoping that appearances were indeed deceiving, Fiyero asked, "Does that mean you lot are the _best_ Captain Belor has to offer me?"

The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. "We are the only ones who have actually encountered the beast, Your Highness. Captain Belor thought our experience would be of value to you."

Translation: They _were_ new recruits and Belor didn't care about who was sent off with the Winkie Prince just as long as he was seen to do his part. Fighting the urge to groan, Fiyero settled for rolling his eyes. "Right," he said flatly. "Well, let's get going."

* * *

Their journey down the Yellow Brick Road wasn't a long one, which was good, since Captain Belor had apparently seen no reason to supply them with horses for the day either. The eastern forest (which, for some obscure political reason, had never been properly named) actually jutted out quite far, and its artificially sharp tree line was well within sight of the Emerald City. The golden road, which spilled from under the heavy green shade like a tongue, curved so as to cut through the thinnest possible section of woods, allowing a carriage or wagon moving at average pace to make it from one side to the other within a few hours. According to reports, few people had been attacked right in the middle of the forest; whether on the City side or nearer to Munchkinland, most encounters with the creature had occurred only a short distance in, far enough that the sky was blocked out but close enough to turn back with little effort.

"Which," said Fiyero, "makes me think that whoever this is really only wants to scare people off." He looked around the men walking with him, hoping that maybe this topic – since it was actually relevant to their job – might manage to start up a friendly conversation. When no one answered he added, "Don't you think?"

The man he'd addressed at random was the team's medic – one of six ensigns that Cherrystone was theoretically in charge of – and one who was obviously unsettled by the utter lack of concern his temporary commander had shown for rank, marching formations, terms of address, and now, apparently, the code of conduct. His eyes flickered to the lieutenant, then at his peers, then back at Fiyero. "I... er... maybe," he stammered. "Sir."

Scintillating. That was about two words more than the last one had managed. Still, Fiyero wasn't the type of man to have any trouble holding conversations all on his own. "So then it's probably an _A_nimal, not an _a_nimal," he went on, habitually changing the emphasis, "though I can't figure out why anyone would bother spending months on end doing nothing but try to keep people from _travelling_. He's not very good at it, either. You know how many people take this road every day? I mean, it's not packed, obviously," he said, gesturing to the mostly-empty countryside around them, "but it's used all the time, and at least four out of every five people make it through without any trouble at all. I didn't see any pattern in the ones that _did_ get stopped, either – did you?"

He addressed this question to Cherrystone, who, probably just by virtue of being the highest ranked, had been the most talkative, not that that was saying much. "No pattern that I noticed, sir," he replied with a curt nod.

"So then you agree – this looks like a completely pointless and random series of attacks that never did any harm and didn't target any particular people?" pressed Fiyero.

"Only humans have been ambushed, sir, but considering how many more humans take this route than Animals, I don't find that surprising."

His clipped, precise tone indicated – in a very polite, subordinate sort of way – that he didn't expect to be saying more on the matter. Grumbling audibly, just loud enough to make sure they all heard it, Fiyero hitched the pack a little higher on his back and kept on walking.

The towering trees weren't far off, and considering the attacker's habits, it was fair to assume that he could be waiting very close to the edge, and was perhaps able to see them already. As they approached the first trees, Fiyero slowed his pace and the seven soldiers followed suit. Almost in unison, they unstrapped their rifles and checked that bullets were loaded, and without taking his eyes from the shadowy woods Fiyero said, "Just remember, we're not here to kill anyone. If this is an Animal, I don't want to hurt him if we don't have to."

"What if it's gone wild, sir?" asked Cherrystone reasonably. "Mad, even?"

"Then we don't want to look like a threat," Fiyero replied. He was feeling very Vinkun at the moment, falling back into the comfortable certainly of old habits and tribal training; without thinking about it, he knew exactly what he was looking for, and _knew_ that it wasn't in the trees spread out before them. "Come on," he said, stepping forward on golden bricks, "let's go in."

All eight of them walked cautiously, trying to keep up the appearance of normalcy. Before leaving they had decided that an obvious search would be a bad idea, and so were pretending that Fiyero was travelling to Munchkinland on business with a personal guard, just as Lady Rodmilla had been during the last attack. Hence, while the soldiers all had their rifles out in the standard marching position, Fiyero appeared to be unarmed. He did have a small six-round pistol hidden under the long flap of his coat, and the staff he was using as a walking stick could serve as an extra weapon if necessary, but by and large the ruse depended on making him look like very tempting bait.

As they moved steadily on, avoiding the persistent little plants that were already growing up between yellow bricks, Fiyero quietly asked, "Where exactly were you during the attack?"

"Er... about thirty paces from the forest edge," answered Cherrystone. "I'd just sent Mavrus ahead to estimate how much farther we had left, and that's what he reported when he got back. Sir."

"So whoever this is chose to attack when you were separated," mused Fiyero, very softly, eyes still scanning the trees. "Makes sense. What else do you remember that wasn't in the report?"

"Little, sir," said Cherrystone, gesturing for his men to keep their guns from creeping higher as they walked, despite the nervousness that made it so tempting. "We never saw much, just the large shape I described. It was mostly noise, coming from somewhere in the trees."

"But you're sure it was just one creature?"

"I think so, sir. It was all over very fast."

"Hmmm..." Fiyero frowned and looked around the soft earth and brush on either side of the path. He avoided making lots of suspicious glances up and trusted the soldiers to watch his back for now. Many of the plants showed signs of having been roughly walked through, both recently and quite some time ago, and there was a bit of fur caught in the bark of a tree. Though not everyone would recognise the significance, the damage was all quite easy to spot, and in fact, it looked more like it had been trodden through by an army than crept through by a stealthy hunter. Whoever this was, he clearly hadn't been taught even the simplest methods of covering his tracks, and since _a_nimal instincts generally kept them from leaving such an obvious trail in the first place, Fiyero was now more or less certain that they were dealing with an _A_nimal.

That meant their target was intelligent and, judging by its erratic behaviour, very, very dangerous.

At this point, the wisest course of action would have probably been to retreat, or at least clump together so that they could watch for danger in all directions at once. Fiyero, however, had never been one for convention. On impulse, for no reason other than that his instincts told him so, he suddenly changed their strategy.

"Spread out," he said in a hushed tone. "Go in pairs; two of you stay on the road, everyone else go into trees, but not far. Keep your weapons ready but _don't shoot_ unless one of our lives is in danger." He paused for a moment, using the cover of a large-leafed bush to check his pistol, quickly thinking through the new ruse. "Make it seem like we're looking for something – pretend Rodmilla lost an earring, or something like that. Talk."

"...Talk, sir?"

"Talk. Out loud, but don't make it obvious you want him to hear. Pretend to search but don't stray too far. Got it?"

The men murmured tentative agreement and fanned out. Cherrystone went with Fiyero and they moved off the road, boots sinking slightly in the very soft earth, eyes flickering between it and the half-hidden branches above. Around and behind them, the ensigns were following orders, murmuring to each other about the supposedly missing earring – and, Fiyero was pleased to note, about the recent Quoxball match, which the Emerald City had lost spectacularly to Western Gillikin. Things sounded normal, and that was as it should be. Fiyero hoped that their elusive Animal target – whom he was certain was close, judging by the messy feline paw prints he was surreptitiously following – would be fooled by the chatter, and react as he had before, with the loud noises and clumsy threats that had so terrified other travellers moving through the forest in this manner.

Unfortunately, while Fiyero had predicted his target's behaviour perfectly, he wasn't quite so accurate when it came to his men. He had learned his skills out among more experienced Arjiki tribesmen, but never instructed a group, and as such, just wasn't used to being responsible for people who could misinterpret a situation, misjudge it, or simply panic.

"_It's there! THERE!_ LIEUTEN–!"

Fiyero barely had time to spin in their direction before–

_Crash_.

Grunt.

"_Mavrus_!"

_Bang!_

"_RWAAAAAAAARRR!_"

Sprinting towards the sound – and two frightened-looking but unharmed ensigns – Fiyero bellowed, "DON'T SHOOT!"

If nothing else, these men could follow orders. The one who had strayed too far from his partner and made himself into unwitting bait was very white, but as Fiyero and the others arrived, he pulled himself together enough to point shakily in one direction. "H-he went that way. Some sort of Cat."

"Are you hurt?" asked Cherrystone, while the others moved to search again.

The ensign shook his head, still breathing hard. "He just knocked me over."

More strange behaviour; any Cat big enough to make such a roar and topple a man down could easily have killed him, but instead it had simply run off. It wasn't hunting, then, and apparently didn't see them as too big a threat... but it was still gone.

Grimacing, Fiyero looked around, and when that failed he gestured to the others for silence and just _listened_. Over the heavy breathing of his human companions and the crackle of twigs crushed underfoot, he could hear distant bird calls, the running water in a nearby stream, wind rustling through the forest canopy... but no running, nor the scratching of claws in tree bark.

"He's still nearby," Fiyero said quietly. "He must be watching us. Keep looking around."

The men did just that, though their trigger fingers twitched nervously as they waited for the silence to break. It was all a gamble now, a hope that the beast now stalking them wouldn't risk attacking eight wary men, and that maybe, _maybe_ they would still be able to carry out their assignment.

"Just stay calm," Fiyero instructed, glancing at the jumpy man who had fired before. "And whatever you do, when you see him, don't–"

"_THERE!_"

"–shout."

With a sigh, Fiyero turned, fully expecting to have lost their quarry again, but today he seemed to be lucky; the furry brownish shape that had been slipping between trees and brush was moving towards them – lured, perhaps, by the obvious anxiety of the soldiers.

It was a Lion. A fairly young Lion, judging by his half-grown mane, and one that looked like it couldn't decide whether to walk on two legs or four like his mute and mindless cousins. Instead he jumped and waddled, looking lopsided, hissing and spitting as though it would frighten them when another growl might actually have done so.

Everything about the situation seemed wrong, and it set off loud alarm bells in Fiyero's head: This Lion wasn't acting like an animal _or_ an Animal, which made it very hard to predict. Should he talk to it? Would it even understand, considering that it didn't seem to have had even the slightest exposure to civilisation? Did it know what guns were, or would it attack without realising the danger, forcing them to kill it? Or was it smarter than it seemed, maybe outwitting them all by sheer virtue of originality?

Rather efficiently, the Lion's first words answered all these questions in one fell, disappointing swoop. He came closer, snarling victoriously, then reared back on his hind legs, lifted two paws like fists and said, "Put 'em up! Put 'em up!"

Fiyero... blinked.

The soldiers, whose rifles were already up and pointing at their target, faltered in surprise. Several glanced at Cherrystone, who shrugged, or at Fiyero, whose attention was fixed on their bewilderingly overconfident opponent.

Apparently this silence was all that the Lion needed to convince himself that they were scared. Smirking, he came closer, swirling his furry paws in the face of the nearest sweating ensign and idly batting the rifles aside. "I'll fight you!" he declared. "I'll fight you all – every one of you! Which one of you first, hrmmm?"

This... was... absurd. He wanted a _fist fight_?

Cherrystone and his men were now quite lost, and Fiyero barely less so. Discreetly gesturing for the others to keep their guard up, he left his own pistol holstered and said, "We're not here to fight," thinking it the most non-aggressive approach possible. Apparently it was the opposite.

"Oh, so it's you, eh?" said the Lion, aiming his fists at Fiyero's face. "Scared, eh? I'll fight you! I'll fight you all at once – and blindfolded! You can't cross me without getting a mark to show for it. Come on and fight, you furless, buttoned-up old _cod_."

"Now that's getting _personal_, Lion," Fiyero replied dryly. He glanced at Cherrystone and shook his head, baffled, and the soldier took that as permission to take the lead himself.

"Lion," he said formally, "are you the creature responsible for terrorising innocent travellers on this road for the past several months?"

The Lion drew himself up proudly and sneered, "What of it, hrmm? What of it?"

That was a yes. It was also a yes given so freely that instead of being a reassuring confirmation, it just made Fiyero more uneasy. "Why?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

"I'm a _lion_!" came the sharp, growled, offended reply. "A real lion!"

"...And?" Fiyero asked after a brief silence. "That's not a reason."

Apparently this Lion thought it was, for he faltered, then retorted, "It's what lions _do_, you hair-brained _sissy_."

"But you're a _L_ion, not a _l_ion," said Fiyero, ignoring the insult, but from this Lion's reaction, it was immediately evident he had no idea what the distinction was. Ignoring the impatience of Cherrystone, who – now that he had his confession – was simply waiting to make the arrest, Fiyero asked, "Is that the _only_ reason you've been doing this? Because you think you're supposed to act like the wild lions in these woods?"

"I'm just like them!" hissed the Lion defensively. "What, you think I'm not? I'll show you! I'll show you! I'm just as scary as any of them! Come on, put 'em up! No one gets through _my_ forest without a fight!"

"This forest belongs to the Wizard of Oz," Cherrystone said sternly, waving two men forward. "Lion, you are now under arrest for violent harassment, disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace. You will be taken to the Emerald City to await trial and–"

A defiant roar drowned out the rest of his words as the Lion lunged towards them, claws out and teeth bared. He had barely knocked one rifle aside when – _BANG!_ – another fired, and then–

An unearthly yowl, as long and high and pathetic as anyone could imagine, suddenly split the air. The ensign who had fired jumped, startled, and the eight humans watched in mild shock as the huge golden Lion crumpled like old paper, clutching his paw and screeching a death knell.

Irony was, the bullet had more or less missed. After several minutes of gathering enough courage to brave the clawed and flailing limbs, Cherrystone's men managed hold the Lion down long enough for their medic to treat the wound, and found that the silly creature was in no real danger. There was a patch of blood on one arm – that was _all_. It looked like the shot had only scraped the edge of his skin, making an odd-looking shallow gouge in the flesh, but from the way he was carrying on, one would think he had lost the entire limb.

"Am I dying?" he whimpered, wincing dramatically, huge eyes now wet with tears. "Is this the _end_?"

"I told you, you're fine," said the medic, whose nervousness had been lost to exasperation several minutes ago. "Just let me finish bandaging it."

"It's no use, I'm _done for_," he moaned. "I'm gonna die like a sissy – like a _mouse_!"

"You're certainly acting like one," the man muttered. "There, done."

The Lion sat up slowly, hesitantly, and cringed at the five rifles pointing at him from all directions. He looked utterly miserable, shuddering a little from leftover sobs, and wiped his eyes with his tail.

Fiyero watched quietly. He was remembering another young Lion he'd once known, one who had huddled in the corner of a cold metal cage just as this one was shuffled close against the tree. He also remembered being sickened to learn, some months after Doctor Dillamond's return, that infant Animals left to fend for themselves were several times more likely to die than orphaned animals in the same situation – they just thought too much to blindly follow their inborn natures, and usually ended up starving. He'd never told Elphaba.

Sympathetic now, Fiyero knelt in the earth and looked at the Lion, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. The Lion jerked away anyway, watching with wide eyes as though afraid to be hurt again. "How did you get here?" Fiyero asked. "Where are your parents?"

Another sob. "Don't know," he said. "They took Mama away from me so long ago that I don't remember nothing."

"'Took away'?" repeated Fiyero. "Humans?"

The Lion nodded, shoulders still hunched protectively, making his short mane fluff out in all directions. "They put me in a _cage_."

Ah. So this had been one of the victims of clandestine science experiments. Fiyero winced. The Wizard had seized most such laboratories soon after starting his reformations, but not all the Animals reported missing over the surrounding years had been accounted for, and some babies, of course, had never been on official records in the first place. Having been at the trial of Doctor Dillamond's brief replacement, Nikidik, Fiyero knew just how horrible those places had been.

"We're not like them," he promised, cautiously reaching out to touch the Lion's matted fur. "No one's going to hurt you, or lock you up, as long as you don't hurt anyone else. All right?"

The Lion nodded frantically, his fur flopping up and down as he did so.

"Okay, good," said Fiyero, glancing at Cherrystone as he stood up, gesturing for the ungainly Lion to follow suit.

"You will be taken to the Emerald City," said Cherrystone, still formally, but trying to be kind about it. "There you will await judgement by the Grand Vizier, Lady Elphaba, and–"

"_NOOOO!_" the Lion suddenly shrieked, scrambling backwards and clinging frantically to Fiyero's knees. "_No_, don't let her hurt me, _PLEASE!_" he cried. "Please please please please..."

"_What_? What now?" asked the baffled Fiyero, grabbing the arm of a random ensign to keep from losing his balance. "Let go, will you?"

The big coward just held on tighter, sobbing in terror, and it took help from three soldiers to extract Fiyero from his grip. Able to walk again, the prince crouched a short distance away and repeated his question. "Why are you afraid of Elphaba?"

"Sh-she's the green witch!" wailed the Lion. "I heard 'em talking – people who come through the woods. They said she's as green as the city! She'll hurt me if she sees me!"

"She will _not_," said Fiyero. "Why would you think that?"

"Because she did it before! She took away all my courage when I was just a _cu-u-ub!_"

He dissolved into tears again, but this time Fiyero wasn't quite so sympathetic; he pulled the Lion's paws from his face and looked him square in the eye. "Tell me what happened."

Haltingly, and between pathetic little sobs, the Lion described how he'd been captured and taken away from his mother by humans, how he'd been brought to a place where there had been lots of banging and shouting and shaking, and how he so clearly remembered a pair of _green_ hands carrying his cage before, in a blurry panic which had muddled most of his memories, he'd escaped into the forest, dashing off at full pelt and so utterly _terrified_ by the experience that he'd run clear out of the northern woods and flatly refused to return.

Fiyero, who until then had been so _proud_ of his and Elphaba's good deed, felt gutted.

"I've never ever been brave since," concluded the cowardly Lion. "So you see? She must've done it! She used her magic to take away all my courage so I could never be a real lion _ever again_..."

"That's not true," said Fiyero, and opened his mouth to add, _I should know, I was __there__,_ but thought the better of it – he'd had enough experience trying to talk people into things to know that blatantly presenting himself as Elphaba's ally wouldn't help. Instead he said, "There's no spell that can take away courage."

"There _has_ to be," sniffled the Lion. "Why else would I be so _s-s-scared_? I'm a _lion_! I'm supposed to be king of the forest!"

"Er... no, you're not." Fiyero looked around at the soldiers for help, but apparently deciding what to do with a deluded prisoner was a job reserved solely for the team commander. He sighed and tried to be reasonable. "Even if she could, why would she do that to you?"

"Because she's _evil_! I heard them talking – they say she wants to change everything in Oz, and will cast a spell on anyone who doesn't do as she says!"

Fiyero groaned. _Perfect_. Not only were they caught in a stalemate of circular logic, but it just _had_ to be based on the _one_ time that Elphaba had lost her temper – which, by the way, had only left the man furry for a day or two, and he'd richly deserved it. Still, it had happened, and arguing details wasn't going to help matters; not when the Lion was this scared.

So the question was, now what? It wasn't as though Fiyero could sit around the forest all day trying to talk a traumatised young Lion out of something he'd obviously been convinced of for years, but neither could he take them elsewhere – the Supreme Court of Munchkinland, for instance – and let a judge other than Elphaba deal with him; the whole point of this trip was to make a big show about public safety. Cruel as it seemed, he didn't have much choice except to drag the whimpering Lion back to the city.

Somehow.

Stupid politics.

After a long minute of thinking, Fiyero said, "If you come with us – quietly," he added, "and don't fight us, then I promise that we'll protect you. You won't to be put in a cage, or drugged, or enchanted – not by anyone."

The Lion glanced up, hopeful but hesitant. "To the green city?" he asked. Fiyero nodded. "...W-will the witch be there?"

"She's _not_ a witch," Fiyero replied automatically, but hesitated before answering the question. He _could_ evade it, say that she was off on business somewhere, but the Lion might catch him, and really, he'd never shared Elphaba's righteous refusal to lie outright when necessary. "No," he said simply, "she won't."

After a great deal more humming and hawing, begging for promises and sniffling over his wound, the Lion agreed.

* * *

It would be nice to say that, after all this fuss and trouble, Fiyero simply brought the Lion to the Emerald City, carefully introduced him to Elphaba, and cleared up all the confusion about him thinking she was responsible for his lack of courage. But that was never going to happen.

These things take time, and the Lion, who had lived most of his life in the quiet safety of the forest, had already been through enough for one day. He panicked several times on the journey to the city, afraid that "the witch" might come back early or somehow see them anyway. At least twice he tried to run back to the forest, but he was still under arrest, and while strong, he was terrified of rifles. Then, of course, once they reached the city an ambush of reporters and photographers were waiting, and between the shouted questions and flashing cameras, the Lion's nerve failed him completely – he shrieked, fought, and had to be hauled away by the soldiers, reinforcing the public image of him as a deranged and mindless monster.

Glinda saved that particular day, managing to take in Fiyero's entire explanation and hammer it into a brilliantly reassuring speech within about half an hour. She presented it to the press as a terrible tragedy – the poor, abandoned Animal so traumatised by abuse at the hands of humans that it could no longer tell friend from foe. This was perfect in many ways, not the least because it was entirely true, if somewhat exaggerated, but also because she was then able to use it as a platform from which to justify a rather large expansion project which the psychiatric division of the Emerald City Hospital had needed for years, as well as several of Elphaba's more aggressive law reforms.

In truth, what the Lion needed was a crash course in civilisation, not a psychiatrist. He was young and confused and very, very scared, but not crazy. What he had done to passing travellers was undoubtedly wrong, but understandable, and Elphaba managed to justify pardoning him on the grounds of ignorance, with the added condition that he be under the constant supervision of a responsible guardian until he was socially rehabilitated. Of course, she had to do all this through second-hand interviews, because no matter how much progress the Lion made getting over his fear of locked rooms and sharp objects, he flatly refused to go anywhere _near_ Elphaba.

She took that hard.

Being her active, forthright self, Elphaba had wanted to see the Lion the moment she first heard about him. She had been hurt to the point of stricken to learn that the Cub they had rescued so blindly considered her evil, and it was only Fiyero's dogged insistence that she would do more harm than good that kept her from barging on in anyway. As weeks passed and he showed no sign of coming around, Elphaba threw herself into studying old missing persons reports and the transcript from Nikidik's trial, determined to find out exactly which of the lost orphans this was.

Eventually it was established beyond any doubt that this particular Lion had been named Arix Urhorn, and that he'd vanished along with his mother just over five years ago. His closest living relative, an uncle, had been contacted immediately, and after a long series of legal complications, Mr Urhorn had taken custody of his nephew and moved them both to an all-Animal village in the southern Vinkus, where friends and neighbours were quite willing to help take care of him.

It was the right thing to do – the best thing for everyone involved, especially Arix – but that's not to say it didn't hurt. Fiyero had been able to talk to him every few days, and could find some consolation there, but Elphaba had only seen him once, when their paths crossed by accident, and his scream had echoed in her ears for days. They'd asked Urhorn to keep in touch, to let them know if he needed any help at all, and he'd appreciated the gesture even if his nephew had not.

The letters came sporadically, and were little more than polite notes, sent more out of obligation than any real need. The only one of real significance came two months after the Lions had left, and Fiyero opened it on a sunny afternoon when he, Glinda, and Elphaba were sitting at a table outside their favourite ice cream parlour.

"Arix's rehabilitation is officially complete," he told them, scooping up another bite of chocolate-covered chocolate-chip chocolate ice cream while he glanced over the signature of the state-assigned Animal counsellor. "They're asking for his pardon to be finalised."

"I'll write it up tonight," promised Elphaba, looking up from her own stack of unopened letters with restrained hope. "Does it say anything about their plans?"

Offering a sympathetic look, Fiyero shook his head. "Urhorn says he's gotten a good job as a builder, and apparently Arix is trying to learn the trade. It doesn't sound like they want to leave. ...They don't say anything about him warming to you, Elphaba."

She'd expected that, but the disappointment still stung. Her eyes dropped to the strawberry dessert that was melting in her bowl, and she stabbed at it a few times with her spoon. Glinda squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Elphie," she said. "I know it means a lot to you, but... well, you're never going to be liked by everybody. Even _I_ will never be liked by _everybody_," she added with a gently teasing grin. "Why don't we just finish with all this mail and enjoy our afternoon off, hmm? Think about something else."

Elphaba nodded, smiling a little. She reached out to pick up a new letter and tried to open it one-handed while spooning up some more of the pink cream.

Glinda chuckled. "You know, I don't think Duke Maberly will be flattered to see ice cream stains on his best stationary."

"Duke Maberly is never going to see this letter again," replied Elphaba with a little shrug, finally managing to shake it open and starting to skim over the contents. "Actually, I'm never going to see it again, either. He's just complaining about the complaints that he's employing humans unfairly."

"He wrote to me about that last week, too," said Glinda, frowning. "I told him we'd all discussed it before turning down his request. Why would he write to you?"

"Because you lied?" teased Fiyero, then hurried to duck away from the crumpled napkin that she tossed towards his head. He chuckled, then shrugged. "Because he's an idiot, probably. Just ignore his next few letters and see what happens. He'll probably come back begging."

"Or he'll start writing to you," warned Glinda, taking another bite of her own dessert. Then she looked more closely at Fiyero and said, "You have brown on your chin."

He tried to lick it off and, when that failed, wiped the stray chocolate away with his hand. "So what's the verdict, Elphaba? Do you like strawberry ice cream?"

"I still can't believe you've _never_ had it before," muttered Glinda.

Curiously, there was no response. Furrowing her brow, Glinda looked up to see her green friend staring at another letter, looking surprised and hopeful and utterly delighted. "Elphie?"

Fiyero craned his neck to peer at the postmark on the discarded envelope: _Colwen Grounds, Munchkinland_. "Is that from Nessa?"

She shook her head, eyes still fixed on the writing and a wide smile on her mouth, the ice cream quite forgotten. "Brynna. Our housekeeper."

"The one who's been writing to you about her?" asked Glinda, and Elphaba nodded, continuing to read.

"She says... she says Nessa misses me. She's too proud to say anything, but she keeps talking about me, with Father, and others. She... On my birthday she locked herself in her room for hours; they think she was crying." Trying not to be happy to hear that her sister still cared enough to be miserable, Elphaba forced her smile down and closed the letter. "Brynna thinks that if I write to her now, she'll reply. She says Nessa's ready to be friends again."

"About time," said Fiyero bluntly, though he smiled and squeezed her hand. "How long has it been? A year?"

"Almost," said Glinda, and reached over to give her best friend a little hug. "That's wonderful, Elphie. I know how much you've missed her."

Elphaba hugged her back, ignoring or oblivious to the slightly startled looks from other patrons of the ice cream parlour. Her smile, refusing to be held back for long, was brilliant. "I'll write back now. Do you have a pen?"

A quick bag-and-pockets search by both Fiyero and Glinda turned up a great deal of spare paper, but no envelopes or pens. "It's all right, I'll just go back to my office," said Elphaba, hurriedly gathering her scattered papers into a carry-bag. "See you both later."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait a while?" asked Fiyero, who had been enjoying their afternoon out. "You know you're going to spend three hours drafting it anyway. Let us walk you back."

"No, really, I want to start now," said Elphaba, shaking her head and leaning down out of sight to re-lace the shoe she had kicked off earlier. Finishing, she reached up to the table to grab her bag, but in her hurry, completely forgot that the bowl of strawberry ice cream was still sitting innocently on the edge of the table, directly in the path of her incoming hand.

One can probably guess what happened next.

Elphaba's palm hit the rim of the bowl full-force, flipping it over, and ice cream – _pink_ ice cream, as if any other colour wasn't embarrassing enough – was catapulted out, hitting her chest with a splattery wet _smack_ before rolling down, leaving smears, and _plop_ping onto her lap.

The metal spoon hit the ground a moment later, its light _ping_ adding to the finality of the effect.

Fiyero took one look at her spattered face and burst out laughing.

Glinda followed suit a moment later, covering her mouth with both hands and slumping forward on the table, squeaky, hysterical giggles shaking her entire body. The other Ozians eating or walking nearby all stopped to stare at their dignified and now pinkified Grand Vizier, and there was the faint _snap-whirr_ sound of someone taking photographs. Elphaba, for her part, just looked at her lap, eyes fixed on the ice cream as though it were the most loathsome of traitors

"Oh, Elphie," gasped Glinda, laughing too hard to properly breathe. "Oh, _Elphie_... What a _mess_..."

With a completely straight face her friend replied, "Well, _Linny_, you can have some too," and promptly dropped a handful of the cold, wet cream straight onto Glinda's head. She shrieked, trying to duck, but only managed to make it slide down the back of her neck, and she wriggled madly in an attempt to reach it before her dress was completely ruined.

Fiyero was still doubled over laughing, and only seemed sorry that he'd already finished his triple chocolate treat and couldn't join in on the fun.

The manager was horrified, of course, and hurried over with a huge pile of napkins, apologising as though it had somehow been his fault, and the three friends began mopping up the melting mess. Elphaba paused halfway through wiping her chin and turned to Glinda with a grin that was partly nostalgic, partly amused, but mostly just plain _wicked_.

"You know what, Glinda?" she said. "Pink goes good with green."


	15. In Theory and Practice

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Author's Notes: The name "Teani" comes from _Daughter of the Empire_ by Raymond E Feist and Janny Wurts.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen  
_In Theory and Practice_

Year 23  
Summer

_Knock, knock... knock?_

"Come in!"

The heavy wooden door squeaked open, almost as tentative as the boy who stood behind it. "Erm... Headmaster Dillamond sir?"

The Goat looked up from his papers, eyes drifting across the uncomfortably opulent office before finding the student who was acting as his secretary. "Yes, Rollin, what is it?" he asked.

"There's – there's someone here to see you, sir," stammered Rollin, quickly glancing over his shoulder. "A visitor."

"I have a lot of visitors," Dillamond said patiently. "Why don't you just let them in?"

"Well, sir... sir, it's not a normal vi–"

"Oh, get _over_ it," snapped a familiar voice, and suddenly Dillamond broke into a wide smile.

"Miss Elphaba!" he cried, standing just as the green woman elbowed her way in. In spite of the minor battle, she looked very happy.

"Doctor Dillamond," she said, smiling as he hurried around the desk to greet her properly. Warmly shaking his offered hooves, she asked, "Or should I call you 'Headmaster' now?"

"I would rather you didn't," he said fondly. "It's not a title I'm fond of – _Lady Vizier_," he added lightly, teasing. Rollin backed out, closing the door, and Elphaba shrugged.

"I'm used to it. There are other names around for me that aren't nearly as nice."

"Fame and power will do that to anyone, my dear, particularly one who makes lives as difficult as you do. But please, come in, come in."

Still smiling, she followed him. "In that case, it's a surprise that they haven't come up with anything worse than 'Green Lady'. Or maybe Glinda's just not telling me."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Your friend cares for you very much," said Dillamond. "Do sit down," he urged, gesturing away from the desk and to a pair of comfortable-looking chairs near a large window. "Would you like some tea?"

"Please," said Elphaba, taking off her pointed hat and shaking out her hair. Outside, students were chatting as they ate lunch and laughed in the sunlight, their faint voices and blurry shapes filtering through the window, and Elphaba smiled, feeling curiously at home. Her host poured generously from a still-hot teapot that Rollin had delivered not long ago, carefully handing over her cup before filling his own.

"So," he said, tucking his tail and sitting down opposite her, "what brings you back to Shiz, Miss Elphaba? That master's thesis we discussed, perhaps?" he asked hopefully. "Or is this just a sentimental visit to your old professor?"

"Actually, I need your help," she said, "as a scholar of Ozian history. If you have time, of course."

"My dear girl," said Dillamond, "for you, there is always time. What can I do?"

Smiling, she opened her satchel and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers – mostly letters, by the look of them, with other bits and pieces covered in her sprawling, messy handwriting. "I'm guessing you know about the trouble we've been having with employers turning down Animal applicants, especially for hospitality and care-giving positions."

He nodded solemnly. "Unfortunately. My niece, Teani, has been refused a position by three primary schools in spite of her teaching certificate. 'Too emotionally distant from the children', one said." He snorted.

Elphaba frowned. "Didn't she graduate with honours?"

"Indeed. Special commendation for 'innovative self-motivation techniques'."

"Hmph. Well, Saint Ellion's Middle School has been pestering us to let them expand into the lower levels; give me Teani's application and I'll see that they get it."

Dillamond's brow raised in surprise. "That's very generous," he said, "but... well, I wouldn't want you to be accused of favouritism."

"I'll ask Glinda to convince them that it's a show of good faith, or good for their image, or something like that – she can talk anyone around. But anyway, that's a perfect example of the problem. For months now I've been trying to find a common thread in the cases. There are more than two hundred petitions, letters of complaint and court transcripts, and the only thing that's the same every time is that humans aren't willing to accept Animals as their equals."

"A sad truth," sighed Dillamond. "What can I do?"

She laced her fingers together. "I'm trying to put together a new legislation that would require all employers to sign an anti-discrimination agreement before they can hire anyone, Animal or human. It won't solve everything, but it would give us more room to prosecute unfair dismissals and offer tax benefits to anyone who _does_ employ Animals. Theoretically, I can pass it into law without having the approval of the cabinet or anyone else – except the Wizard, of course," she added quickly, as though she'd completely forgotten, "but he agrees anyway. What we're worried about is that it might spark a big protest unless we can prove that this prejudice really is new."

The Doctor scoffed indignantly. "They're _actually_ pretending things have always been this way?"

"Some are. They claim that Oz has always been led by humans because Animals are somehow incapable, rather than because the Ozma Dynasties were hereditary. I think it's mostly ministers and earls who don't want competition in government, but they've convinced a lot of people, and it's a good excuse for anyone who's biased. We just don't have any hard evidence to prove otherwise. _That's_ why I'm here," she said. "We want to put together a document that can show, in no uncertain terms, that there's absolutely _no_ historical precedent for this racism and that Ozian society _has_ had mixed species in power, just not at the royal level. Glinda and Fiyero and I have been organising the evidence we have from today–" she gestured to the letters and transcripts on the table "–but we haven't been able to find much at all about pre-bias times. There doesn't seem to be anything published about it, and we're not really sure where else to look."

A thoughtful frown. "Just how far back in history are you trying to go, Miss Elphaba?"

"As far as we can," she replied. "Not just the early Ozma queen dynasties, but... well, _back_. Pre-civilisation, if there is anything. If Lurline ever made some divine pronouncement about an Animal being a good mayor, that's perfect. It needs to be as irrefutable as possible."

Dillamond's tufty eyebrows lifted almost to the roof. "That," he said, "is a _tall_ order."

She winced, briefly looking like the awkward schoolgirl he remembered. "Really?"

"I'm afraid so," replied the Goat with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "The evidence you need could be buried in any one of hundreds of original texts, some of which have never even been catalogued. You'd need to search law books, sociology texts, even scientific journals, and that's not counting all the primary sources we have in storage awaiting study. More to the point, even with all that, I'm not sure we could produce the sheer volume of data you'd need to ward off accusations of bias."

Elphaba gave an embarrassed smile, looking at her hands. "I was hoping," she confessed, "that you'd just... _know_."

He laughed kindly. "My dear, I wish I did! And while I appreciate your confidence in me, I'm afraid it's simply not that easy. Still," he added thoughtfully, sipping his tea, "it's not impossible."

She perked up, encouraged, and he smiled.

"I couldn't do it alone, of course, even without all this administrative fuss–" he waved one hoof towards the stacks of paperwork on his desk "–but it could work as a group project for the senior classes. I've been wanting to add another upper-level course to the curriculum anyway, and I could probably get Professor Kevrik to pull his political science students in as well. Thirty or so young minds would work much faster than two doddering old men."

They shared a smile at this, both perfectly aware that Dillamond was neither old nor as frail as he seemed despite the awful treatment he'd suffered during his brief incarceration; something about being called 'Headmaster' seemed to give people the wrong impression.

"If you could," said Elphaba, immensely grateful, "that would be wonderful."

"It would take time," he warned. "Thorough research can't be rushed, and there will be a lot of debate over the interpretations involved."

Elphaba shook her head. "As much as I hate to say it, I don't expect to pass this law in less than a year anyway. Take all the time you need, and _thank_ you."

He smiled fondly at her. "You are most welcome. We may even manage it in six months, if luck holds. Shiz does have one of the best libraries in Oz, and as you know, many scholars come here for weeks on end just to use it. Hmm," he added, a thought striking him, "maybe I could convince them to help..."

"Well, the Royal Archives are always at your disposal," offered Elphaba, "as is the City Library. We could send the texts here, but if anyone wants to stay in the city for a while, they're more than welcome." She grinned impishly. "We could use some more intelligent people in the palace anyway."

Dillamond chuckled. "That will make my graduate students very happy. Of course," he added lightly, "then they'll all dash off to the city mid-semester and leave me to lecture to empty rooms."

She tilted her head slightly, pausing to swallow a sip of tea. "You still teach? Personally, I mean? I didn't think most headmasters did that."

"Teaching is my life, Miss Elphaba," he replied solemnly, "I could never give it up." With a tired sigh he sat back in the chair. "I was lucky, I think, to have found my passion so early. Many people spend their entire lives chasing idle fantasies and never really _yearn_ for anything. It's rather sad, being so... empty."

"When you put it that way, I suppose I'm lucky, too," said Elphaba pensively, stirring her drink. "I could never have tried to get this job; it just _happened_, and so many things could have gone wrong since that didn't. For all the headaches, I'm glad to do what I do."

Dillamond nodded slowly, hard digits tapping against his teacup. "It must be strange for you," he mused, "living that sort of life. I can see you running law courts and lecturing on prejudice, but fancy galas and public ceremonies? I wouldn't think it suits you."

"It doesn't – it suits Glinda," she said, shrugging. "I only show my face when necessary. But I can't complain; there are so many people, humans and Animals, who want to change the world and can't just because they're stuck where they are, powerless. I'm quite willing to stand and smile at stupid ceremonies if it means I can actually get things _done_."

There was a silence then, a comfortable one in which Doctor Dillamond smiled thoughtfully at his young friend, horns rubbing against the headrest as he studied her. "You are my favourite kind of student, Miss Elphaba," he said suddenly. "You know exactly what you want to learn in life, and you go out there and _use_ it."

She smiled, flattered, but puzzled also. Her head tilted. "I thought you always said that knowledge should be valued for its own sake, and never treated as a tool."

"Indeed, and I believe that, but it's not quite what I meant." Pausing a moment, he tried to phrase himself better. "I delight," he clarified, "in passing on knowledge, in provoking questions in the minds of my students, and in making them think, but there are times when all the study in the world seems useless."

"The day you were arrested," she said quietly. He nodded.

"There was nothing I could do but urge you and your classmates to _think_. I have never, in all my life, been more frightened than I was that day."

Silence. Heavy.

"But!" said Dillamond brightly, trying to break his own gloomy air, "that's all over now, and I have you to thank for it."

Elphaba shrugged modestly. "You've thanked me before."

"And I can never thank you enough," he replied. "You saved my life by alerting the Wizard, and since then you've done so much for me and my kin that we are forever in your debt." He leaned forward, quite serious, very kind. "Always remember, Miss Elphaba, that although some may choose to mock and blame you for their troubles, the rest of us never will."

She blushed, a patch of purple appearing on each cheek, and looked down into her teacup. "Well, I... I just wish there wasn't such a large percentage of humans in the world."

"For that, you can hardly blame yourself."

Elphaba nodded, but awkwardly, uncertain, and Dillamond had to remind himself how young she really was. "Well," he said, "while you're here, would you care to see the new Life Sciences building you funded last year? I have to say, it's quite impressive."

"Please, I've been wondering about that," she replied, grateful, and put down the teacup. "You've made quite a few changes since I left, haven't you?" she asked, standing up with him and picking up her hat. "Two new buildings? Or was it three?"

"Three. Ambitious, I know, but we've needed them for years. Would you like to see them, too?" he offered, opening the office door and startling poor, nervous Rollin.

"A tour?" asked Elphaba, smiling. "I'd love one."

* * *

It was a beautiful day to wander Shiz grounds, and in spite of the expected stares she received, Elphaba quite enjoyed it. As they walked they talked, chatting first about the science building they wandered through, then letting the conversation drift to other topics. It was nice, in a way, to be the centre of attention in this place where she had once been an outcast. Most passing teachers and even a few of the braver students stopped to say hello, and Elphaba had a nice time greeting the lecturers who had taught her and meeting those who had not. Being Grand Vizier did have its benefits.

"This hall was quite a delight to commission," said Dillamond proudly as they strolled leisurely towards a cluster of dormitories. "It's not quite finished yet, but with so many Animals now enrolling on scholarship, some of whom would never be comfortable in rooms designed for humans... well, it was only natural."

They rounded the corner of Elphaba's old dorm, Crage Hall, to find themselves facing the skeleton of a brand-new building. The bricklayers were working hard, about two floors up, and a record player somewhere inside was churning out a loud, catchy song that was very rude if you actually listened to the lyrics. Little of the final result could be seen, but Doctor Dillamond spent about ten minutes gesturing and describing such little details as the extra-large door handles that would make things easier for hoofed persons like himself and the special lightweight window frames they were using so that Mice and the smaller Dogs wouldn't have to ask a friend to help every time they wanted some fresh air. They were all little things, mostly luxuries with only a few necessities, but all of it would be very much appreciated by their eventual inhabitants.

"Were there never dorms like this before?" asked Elphaba as they sat down on a bench near the greenery, and Doctor Dillamond absently picked up a few pesky weeds for a snack. "Before all this bias began, I mean. Shiz wasn't always so human-centric."

"Certainly not," said the Goat, "but there was a fire about twenty years ago that destroyed the old Geology wing and several dormitories. At that point, the financiers were lobbying fiercely for standardisation of design to ease up on the building budgets and there weren't enough Animal students to outweigh their argument."

Typical. And worse, thought Elphaba, even something as obvious as that wouldn't be proof enough for the closed-minded humans who were causing most of her problems right now. She sighed, leaning back on the bench and looking up at the half-finished grand arch that would be the formal entrance to the dorm. As with other such buildings, there was a large stone plaque embedded above it, grandly proclaiming its name and the full titles of whichever rich or influential person it had been dedicated to. This one, curiously, was blank.

"No name?" she asked, puzzled.

"It's still undecided," said Dillamond, shaking his head. With a wry smile he added, "The faculty won't stop arguing. I'm on the verge of putting it out to the students for a vote."

Elphaba, who spent more than enough of her own time listening to ministers squabble over similar things, chuckled. "What are the options?" she asked.

"Well, something after the Wizard, of course, but half the things in Oz are already named for him and we're not that creative. It's been suggested that we name it after you–" her eyes widened in horror, and she vehemently shook her head, _no!_ "–but I assumed you wouldn't want that," finished Dillamond, smiling. "Then there are generic suggestions, like 'Red Sands' or 'Wicassa', but at the moment the preferred option is 'Morrible Hall'."

An old and very familiar streak of cold guilt dropped into Elphaba's belly. "After Madame Morrible," she said quietly, unnecessarily. Dillamond nodded.

"Apparently such an esteemed headmistress deserves a permanent memorial," he said, and in his voice there was a strange note of... something, which Elphaba just couldn't place.

"You don't agree?" she asked.

He shuffled in his seat. "I... withhold my opinion on the matter. The Madame and I were not the most friendly of colleagues."

An understatement; it seemed they'd avoided each other at all costs. Aside from the day he was dismissed, the only time Elphaba had really seen them interact was when that horrible graffiti had been found on his chalkboard, and the rush he'd been in to change the subject spoke of anything but friendship. Come to think of it, he'd never said a word about her since, except to console his horrified student, who had – and had _only_, as far as he knew – witnessed the woman's death. He himself was never really upset. "You didn't like her," Elphaba stated.

"I did not... _trust_ her," said Dillamond. Then he sighed. "No, I didn't like her, either. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Madame Morrible was very... uncooperative. She frequently disregarded my warnings about growing discrimination, and she would say things – quite innocent things, on the surface, but they felt like warnings, even threats, and there were times..." He paused, looking at her, both aware that despite their friendship, Elphaba was now a government official and obliged to take accusations seriously. "I have no evidence," he disclaimed, "but there were times when she said or did things that made me sure she was actively campaigning for more Animal Bans."

_"Such wingspan! Won't they make perfect spies?"_

Elphaba shook her head, pushing away the sharp memory that suddenly wrapped her chest in knots. "Why would she do that?"

The question was whispered, and Doctor Dillamond leaned over to look at her, puzzled. "I can only speak from my own observation, of course," he replied carefully, "but it seemed to me that the Madame enjoyed wielding power over others. She was ambitious, and had a desire for control that was kept very well concealed."

_"You planned all this?"_

_"For you too, dearie – you benefit, too!"_

The cold knot in her chest tightened and Elphaba must have winced, for Dillamond gently touched her shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly. "Surely you – you did _know_? You asked to see her student and teaching files last year."

Elphaba shook her head, dropping it into both hands. "Not for the reasons you think," she said. "I... I'd stumbled across a few things, in old records. Odd things, about her. I was hoping they weren't true."

"What kinds of things?"

His tone was patient, kind, and she appreciated that. "Little things," said Elphaba. "Her name was on a petition that could have banned Animals from using trains twenty years ago. She funded campaigns by two anti-Animal legislators. Her husband was the first to submit a Ban proposal to the cabinet and he died suspiciously after it was rejected. But all that could have been coincidence, with an innocent explanation. I thought her Shiz records might prove her character."

Dillamond was quiet. They both knew otherwise: During Malia Morrible's five years of study, two Animal professors had been fired – one for unspecified reasons, the other for supposed misconduct toward an anonymous female student. As a teacher she'd given evidence against a Wildebeest, who also lost his job, and as Headmistress she'd changed many rules – little, subtle things that most people paid no attention to – soon after which the percentage of Animal students had dropped to nearly nothing.

And then she'd died. There was a painful sort of justice in that, but Elphaba wanted no part of it – no matter what kind of person she'd been, the fact remained that she was _dead_ and Elphaba had been the one who killed her. Yes, it was an accident, but it was still her _fault_, and the same part of her that was so fair when judging others was immeasurably harder on herself. She thought she deserved her guilt.

Since moving into the city, Elphaba had visited the memorial garden outside the palace at least once a week, a sort of penance that she strictly adhered to no matter what was happening around her. Once it had been clear what those records were saying, she'd slammed the books shut and shoved them aside, trying to silence the little voice that suggested that maybe the Madame was _not_ so innocent, and that maybe – just maybe – she'd deserved what she got.

Maybe Elphaba didn't have to feel so terrible.

_A swirl of lime-green silk_.

_The painted face, frozen in shock._

_The bloodstain, spreading, spreading–_

No. That blood was on her hands, and she would _not_ reason it away with talk of "deserving" or "justice". She wouldn't spend her life wallowing in guilt, either – that was worse than useless – but she would not let anything try to make her feel _better_ about it.

"Ah," said Dillamond, completely unaware of her conflict. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you liked her so much."

If only that had been the problem. "It's all right," said Elphaba, trying to shake off her mood. "She did a lot for me, but we weren't close. I didn't dislike her – not the way Glinda did – but we weren't friends, either."

The Doctor's brow furrowed. "_Miss_ _Glinda_ didn't like her?" he asked – then, catching himself, hurriedly added, "Or would you rather not–?"

"It's fine," she assured him, straightening up and habitually taking on the 'unconcerned' posture Glinda had drilled into her years ago in etiquette lessons. "It was nothing terrible, just that the Madame never believed she could make it as a sorceress. She didn't want her in our seminar. Glinda took it personally."

"I see," said Dillamond, nodding. Elphaba shrugged and sighed.

"It's over now," she said. "I try not to think about it. The dead should rest in peace." Leaning back, she looked up at the half-finished building and tilted her head. "You know, I think 'Wicassa Hall' would be a good name. After the town in eastern Gillikin, right?"

"After its founder, actually," said Dillamond. "Don't you know the story?"

She shook her head.

"It's really quite fascinating," he said, easily slipping into what his students fondly called 'storyteller mode'. "Wicassa was a Horse born in Munchkinland during the reign of Ozma the Harmonious, and when he was about three, he stumbled across something rather odd in the Applerue river..."

* * *

Elphaba stayed at Shiz for another two days, the journey having been too long to be justified by a single afternoon of talk. She met with the postgraduate history students, explained her project and its goals, and watched their eyes light up with obsessed-researcher joy when she offered them use of the entire Royal Archives for their study. She looked up a few things of her own in Shiz Library's rare collections and discussed some more serious issues with the university staff, as that was her official reason for coming in the first place. Mostly, though, she spent her time with Doctor Dillamond, sipping tea and chatting in the Headmaster's office.

On her last morning, the two of them were in the middle of a lengthy discussion about historical interpretations of the Oziad when the student secretary, Rollin, knocked and peeked in, looking more distressed than usual. "Sir, I'm sorry, but there's a visitor for Lady Elphaba and he just won't–"

"Miss Elba!"

"Chistery?" Blinking, Elphaba rose from her seat, turning to the door. To Rollin, who was blocking the way, she said, "Well, let him in."

Rollin stepped aside and was nearly trampled by the winged Monkey whose memory regarding manners often got lost when he was excited. "Miss Elba, a letter!" he called, hurrying in and offering a wrinkled envelope. "From Miss Nessrose!"

Elphaba's eyes widened and she snatched it immediately, tearing it open and starting to read. Ever tactful, Doctor Dillamond turned to greet Chistery, whom he hadn't seen since the rest of the Monkey clan left Shiz several months ago. At the sight of Chistery's sweat-soaked clothes and drooping wings, he stopped short and exclaimed, "You're _exhausted_! Here, sit down, have some water," he offered, gesturing to his own chair and frowning at the crumpled map shoved roughly into one pocket. "Did you... _fly_ here?"

That caught Elphaba's attention, and she looked up just in time to see Chistery nod. "Wanted to try," he explained, gulping the liquid. "Miss Nessrose's letter arrived one days after you left, and I know it being important to you, Miss Elba."

_Aw_. Smiling, grateful, Elphaba reached across the armrests to her friend and squeezed his hand. "_Thank_ you," she said. "But Chistery, you didn't have to."

"That what Miss Glinda said," he replied lightly. "I wanted to. Is the letter good news?"

Elphaba looked back down at the neat handwriting and nodded, smiling widely as she read the last of the one-page message. "It is. She... well, she's being all holier-than-thou and saying the Unnamed God has forgiven her, meaning I should too, but she's formally invited me to come home, and that's... more than I expected. She _does_ miss me."

Doctor Dillamond didn't understand this, gathering only that there had been some sort of spat between the Thropp sisters, but could read Elphaba's face easily enough to guess her intentions. "I take it you'll be leaving now, then?" he asked.

She looked up, somewhat sheepishly, but nodded. "I need to be back in the City by the end of the week, and if I don't leave now I'll be pressed for time. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, my dear; you were leaving today anyway, and this has been a wonderful visit." He offered a hoofed hand to shake hers. "I look forward to seeing you again, Madame Vizier."

Elphaba smiled. "And you, _Headmaster_. Thanks again for helping with my research."

"A pleasure," he replied, then glanced at the worn-out Monkey on his armchair. "Will you be staying a while, Chistery?"

Chistery swallowed another large gulp of water, eyes darting between them. "Would _like_ to go with Miss Elba..."

Realising what he was thinking, Elphaba quickly shook her head. "Don't worry, Chistery," she said. "We'll take the train."

* * *

A few days later, in the Emerald City, Press Secretary Lady Glinda Upland of the Arduenna Clan was enjoying one of her rare afternoons off, and she was _not_ shopping. Nor was she socialising, or writing to her parents, or planning some upcoming ball with her tailor and caterer. Instead she was indulging in her other great love – magic.

Soon after moving into the palace, she and Elphie had commandeered a large out-of-the-way-room in the south wing and turned it into a workshop. Besides the Grimmerie itself, which was usually kept on Elphaba's person or hidden by spells in the bookshelves of her room, every practical or theoretical text ever published on the workings of magic had been gathered there for their use, along with a plethora of training wands, cauldrons, potion ingredients and test objects, which they used when working or experimenting with their powers. Demands of state and all the other things happening in life meant that neither sorceress could use the place as often as they liked, but when there was time, or need, the girls enjoyed locking themselves away and practicing their craft.

Really, it was a very nice room. Set on one rounded corner of the central green building, its windows faced south and west, allowing for a great deal of sunshine to brighten the smooth walls and clean, tiled floor. It was not green, thankfully, since the rest of the city really had quite enough of that, but rather a soft silvery-grey which, when combined with the white light and the well-polished wooden tables, made for a warm and very pleasant atmosphere.

The hundreds of unpoppable bubbles floating around didn't hurt, either.

Glinda was standing in the centre of the room, hands on her hips, sunlight glinting off the buckles on her shoes, and glaring. This was really getting _quite_ out of hand; all she'd meant to do was test a little transport spell she and Elphie had translated out of the Grimmerie last week, and look what had happened!

Sighing, and trying not to swallow any of the tiny pink bubbles, Glinda turned back to the table and leaned over the text, re-reading every word and painstakingly checking them all until she was sure she'd found the only error. Then she re-wrote the entire thing, calculated the effects of the problematic word, flipped through her old notes, worked out the counter-spell, and chanted it.

Half of the bubbles disappeared. All the others turned green.

She very nearly stamped her foot. "I _know_ that one was right," she told the world at large. "I _know_ it. So either there's something wrong with fifty other spells too, or you're just being mean to me."

The world at large did not answer.

Frowning, Glinda sat down, perfect nails tapping lightly on the paper as she considered her problem. The translation itself couldn't be wrong – every word in both chants had been used before in other spells with perfect success. True, this ancient language baffled every linguist she'd spoken to, and none of them could find even the slightest connection to Modern Ozian, but Elphaba's odd instincts were enough to grapple with basic meanings and the rest could be worked out from there. They had asked other practicing sorcerers for opinions too, but there really wasn't much to offer: Magic was a mysterious force, and what little was known about harnessing it had come about mostly by accident or through trial and error.

Still, it couldn't be random. There _had_ to be an explanation in there somewhere, if only she could find it.

"_Adney prae, eleka abunae_," she muttered, fingertips running over the dry ink. "_Adney prae, eleka abunae_. _Why_ does that sound so familiar...?"

She leafed through her notebook, a collection of pages copied from the Grimmerie and heavily annotated, patiently reading through them one by one. It took quite a while – she didn't want to miss anything, after all – but eventually she found what she was looking for: a very similar-looking chant, which she faintly remembered having tried, and accomplished, last month. Not too surprisingly, it was a duplication spell.

Reading through the page, Glinda carefully compared the two. They _were_ similar, but not remarkably so. The two short phrases appeared in different places and at different times, were separated by a fifth word in the duplication spell ("_eleka abunae __atum__ adney prae_"), and had quite different rhythms and pacing – it shouldn't have been possible to mix them up.

But somehow, she must have.

Glinda rubbed her forehead. This wasn't making sense. As Madame Lunnor had explained in their second year at Shiz, spells worked, in essence, by channelling the caster's will into the object or situation they wanted to affect. Therefore, intention was an extremely powerful factor, and words were the modifiers that directed magic safely. Trying to force the right result with the wrong words could lead to disaster – the winged Monkeys were just one such example. On the other hand, long familiarity with any given spell made it easier to cast, just as a route would be easier to walk after many trips had already worn a footpath; eventually, no directions were needed at all. Absently, and certainly without any long or complex chant, Glinda waved her hand at the mass of floating bubbles, which obediently swept themselves up and, following her pointed finger, settled into the large glass bowl sitting on the table.

_If_ Glinda had been familiar with the duplication spell the similar chants _might_ have caused her to direct the magic down that path out of habit, but simply put, that wasn't the case; she'd only tried it twice, a mere month ago, and while there hadn't been trouble, it hadn't been easy either.

No, it had to be in the words themselves. Something in her chant was misdirecting the entire process, but it couldn't be the pronunciation – she compared her notes to original Grimmerie pages just to be sure, but the funny-looking faded runes matched her phonetic and alphabetic transcripts. That was not the problem.

With another heavy sigh, Glinda pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began re-doing the most tedious part of spell-casting – translating ancient words into modern ones. It wasn't easy; the Grimmerie's grammar was odd, and its vocabulary very noun-heavy by most standards, but she was used to it, and some parts were simpler than others. "_Eleka_" and "_abunae_", for instance – they meant "create" and "same", respectfully, and the fifth word of the duplication chant, "_atum_", just meant "inanimate object".

The rest was harder – party because it was a dead language, partly because they had to rely on Elphaba's intuition for the phonetics, but mostly because many words just didn't have an exact match in Modern Ozian. "Transport", for instance, was a nice and simple concept when you had one clear-cut word for it, but the first time Elphie studied this page, she'd had to cobble together the meaning from several different words scattered through the explanatory text, including one, "_adney_", which was making trouble now. Glinda turned to another notebook, running her finger down their woefully incomplete vocabulary list. "_Adney_", like several words in this confusifying language, could have different meanings depending on its context: next to a verb-marker like "_prae_" it meant "movement", but in other circumstances it could mean "mountain" or, when next to a noun, the number eight.

...Well, "_atum_" was a noun. Unlike the original authors of the Grimmerie, who seemed to only say their spells once, as incantations, Glinda and Elphaba always had to repeat the words, since, unless they were angry, they had to build up power slowly. By doing so, they made one continuous flow of words, putting "_atum_" directly before "_adney_" when the cycle began again. So if this chant was structured so that its grammar forced "_adney_" to mean "eight"...

It would make eight times as many of the things she was trying to move!

Glinda's pen flew, scratching clear through a sheet of paper as she rushed to scribble down her thoughts. Most inconveniently, there was a knock behind her, which she ignored until it was repeated twice more and Fiyero called her name. With an irritable flick of her hand she gestured towards the door, unlocking it so he could come in, accidentally elbowing her bowl of bubbles in the process.

"Mail just arrived," he said, "I thought you'd–"

"Just a clock-tick, Fiyero; I'm busy being a genius."

His eyebrows lifted in amusement but he waited patiently, closing the door behind him and dumping an armful of things – including a large box – on an empty table, which he then sat on. Glinda was bouncing on the balls of her feet, writing so fast that her quill splattered ink all over the paper and parts of her hands. She didn't care; her smile was huge, her eyes bright, and she was thoroughly wrapped up in the strange spell-casting delight that could send both girls raving for hours, and which, despite their best efforts, no one else could ever really understand.

At last she finished, punctuating her finality with one last hard stab of inked nib on paper, then straightened up. She splayed her ink-dotted hands in the direction of the glass bowl (which was now slowly spilling bubbles onto the floor, thanks to the earlier jolt) and swiftly chanted an unintelligible series of words.

The green bubbles turned pink, then spun, merged, and wound up as two identical shiny spheres, both about the size of one's hand, floating up and down in identical patterns.

Glinda _squealed_. "LOOK! Look, Fiyero, _look_! _I_ _DID it, I did it, I did it!_"

Fiyero, of course, had no idea what she'd been trying to do and wouldn't have understood anyway, but grinned with her and held out his arms to catch her excited hug.

"The counter-spell uses '_calda_'!" she cried, squeezing as he gave her a little spin. "'_ Calda_' can mean 'colour' if it comes before '_pes_' and since '_quampe_' translates to 'green' if it's adjacent to '_peren_' it all makes _perfect sense_!"

Still grinning, Fiyero put her down, keeping one arm around her shoulders as he looked at the scribbled mess of spells with "_DUPLICATION_" written in big letters up top. "Does that mean you can make two of me now?" he teased.

"No no no no no no _no!_" she cried, shaking her head and too wrapped up in glee to realise it was a joke. She pointed to a page in the Grimmerie. "See? It clearly says '_atum_' and that's only for inanimate objects – I _don't_ want to see what would happen if you forced it on a living being. The verb tense would have to change just to recognise you as the target and... You have no idea what I'm talking about."

He shrugged. "I can follow it. Sort of."

Glinda smiled again and shook her head, smoothing the blotchy paper and watching the twin bubbles, which were still moving in perfect sync, one mimicking the other exactly. "Try grabbing one, will you?" she said. "I want to see what happens if they're forced to do different things."

He looked sceptical. "_Grab_ one?"

"Oh, they're unpoppable. I worked that one out last week– _Ooooo_! I wonder if the spell for that might still be affecting– But no, it can't, not when it's finalised– Oh, this is _so_ much fun!"

And really, it was, though Fiyero was determined to never admit how hard it was for him to catch a glittery pink _bubble_. The evil thing was slippery, too, and he could swear it hated him. Glinda caught her one easily, and tried using it to keep the twin still so Fiyero could grab it, but apparently the one she had was the copy, and it didn't command the original. She didn't want to try her familiar pointing spell in case it affected the bubble magic, so Fiyero found himself climbing two chairs, a table, and even balancing one foot on a cauldron in an attempt to get his hands around the smooth and fluttery _thing_.

When at last he had it, and they could pull in opposite directions to test Glinda's theory, the bubble obeyed for all of three seconds before shooting out of his grip, throwing him off-balance and spinning towards its creator's thin white hand. Fiyero flailed and grabbed a hanging lamp for balance, and Glinda frowned.

"I guess they're attracted to magical people," she mused. "Or just me, because I made it."

Fiyero, still clinging to the lampshade and balanced by his toes on the edge of a table, raised an eyebrow at her. "_May_be."

Finally noticing, she smothered a laugh and absently cast the two bubbles out of existence. "Oh, Fiyero, I'm sorry – here, I'll help you down. Sorry, sorry; I never even asked why you came up here."

He waved it off and jumped to the floor, landing in a crouch. "To be attacked by evil pink bubbles, of course," he replied lightly, dusting himself off. "Isn't that what everybody does?"

She chuckled, shaking her head as they made their way to the small couch that sat in a patch of sunlight by one window. "Not usually."

Fiyero chuckled. "The mail arrived," he answered, reaching across the table where he'd put everything; "there's a package for you. Your assistant was going to bring it up, but apparently you were casting something very noisy at the time and scared him off. Blue smoke?"

"Side-effect of a potion," she explained, looking at the large parcel. "Is that it?"

"'Lady Glinda of the Arduenna'," he read from the address line. "I think so. You might want to check with the census, though; could be another one living here."

"It's from Granny!" said Glinda happily as she noticed the return address. "Granny Arduenna, why would she be sending me–? ..._Oh_."

"What?"

Glinda gestured to the wide, round package. "It's a hatbox," she said, looking warily at the brown wrapping, "which means another hide_odious_ hat. Last time I didn't wear her present in public she complained about it for a month. That's a lot of letters, Fiyero."

He looked sympathetic. "You can't pretend it was lost in the mail?"

"Granny would fire the servant who delivered it. She never sends anything by public post anymore." Glinda sighed. "Nothing to do but open it, I guess."

"Well, how bad could it be?" said Fiyero, reaching for a tool with which to cut the bindings. Glinda narrowed her eyes at him. Clearly she'd imagined more than enough 'how bad?' scenarios already.

"_Bad_. The one I gave Elphie was practically elegant compared to what she sent me on my last birthday."

"That bright orange one with the springy streamers?"

"No, that was Lurlinemas. I got the spotted mauve one on my birthday." The protective paper was off now, spreading in a little brown pool around the deceptively plain white hatbox. Glinda took a deep breath, and lifted the lid.

She winced.

Fiyero winced with her.

"That's... _bad_," he said.

"Yes," nodded Glinda, her lovely face pained. "It is."

Only because his hands were already soiled by pink bubbles was Fiyero brave enough to reach in and lift the _horrible_ thing from its container.

Glinda waited, peeking between her fingers, then scrunched her eyes shut and groaned. "It's a _crown_," she moaned. "It's a shiny pink crown with fluttery spikes and a _star_ on the forehead. Those things have been out of fashion for _decades_."

Fiyero considered that, turning the bead-edged thing around in his hands. "Are you sure it's a hat?" he asked. "It looks like a bottomless plant pot."

"It's a hat," sighed Glinda. "And you know, I don't think there's a single thing about this one that I could possibly compliment. At least last time I could say mauve was 'an unusual colour'."

"Puce comes close," offered Fiyero, putting the 'hat' down and letting it roll across the table. "Could you burn it?"

"Tried that last time."

"'Lose' it?"

"Done it twice. Granny was heartbroken."

"Donate to orphans?"

"She'd just buy me another."

"...Damn. I'm out of options."

Glinda shook her head and sighed. "I'll just take it along next time I visit her and Grandpop. My puffy pink ball gown should clash the least, but I'll need to get some sort of sparkly shawl..." She looked at Fiyero. "Any other horrors in the mailbox today?"

He shook his head, reaching for the envelopes left on the table. "All the official ones are on your desk, but I thought you should see these. One's from Elphaba."

"Oh _good_," exclaimed Glinda, pulling the folded sheets out of the open envelope. "I've been wondering what Nessa has to say for herself."

"Not much, apparently," said Fiyero, who had read it before coming up. "Elphaba's being much too understanding about it, as usual, but she does say Nessa went on and on about religion – about how the Unnamed God's messages are _complicated_ and He works in _mysterious ways_, and how His servants must _love and obey without question_..."

"Ugh," groaned Glinda, who had just found the relevant paragraphs. "So basically–"

"Nessa's passing off the entire thing as though she were the victim and deserves apologies. She's got enough sense to know she can't win Boq back but won't admit that Elphaba was right."

"And now Elphie's back to that whole 'I ought to do more for her' spiel that she was stuck in for three months last year," said Glinda, still reading the letter. She came to a particularly self-deprecating line and sighed. "Oh, _Elphie_, why do you have to fall for that?"

"Sisters are funny things," replied Fiyero, shrugging. "Especially younger sisters. At least they're talking to each other again."

"At least Nessa seems to know she was wrong; it sounds like their father's told her off for it, too." She let out a grumpy breath, putting the paper down. "Well, what's that last letter? More good news?"

"Could be," said Fiyero, handing over an envelope with beautiful calligraphy and no postmark. "It's from Lord Duvot's son, Tevien–"

Glinda took the letter and immediately tossed it away, right into the middle of the cluttered table. At Fiyero's startled look, she shrugged and said, "He's probably just trying to ask me to dinner again."

"You're not even going to read it?"

"I already know what it says."

Her indifference was meant as just that – simple disinterest – but it came across as callousness. Fiyero knew, of course, that (like the rest of them) Glinda just didn't have time to read every letter she received, but it wasn't like her to be so blunt about it.

His eyes darted between his friend and the table, and after a long moment he said, "I really think you should read this one."

Her brow furrowed. "Why? They're all the same."

"How would you know if you don't open them?"

Glinda rolled her eyes but reached out to pick up the envelope. It really was very nice stationary, expensive without being too fancy or self-important, with her name and title written neatly on one side and _Tevien Duvot of Settica_ on the other. She opened it.

A minute later, she closed it.

Fiyero waited. "Well?"

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. "He's invited me to go riding with him next week."

Another pause, this one filled by his hands wheeling in little circles, impatient for her to continue. "Are you going?"

"Why all the questions?" she asked, a bit irritable, furrowing her brow at him. "Fiyero, are you trying to play matchmaker?"

He snorted, amused, and shook his head. "Just trying to help a friend."

Glinda tilted her head, puzzled but now interested. "You know him?"

"I was talking about _you_, actually," replied Fiyero drolly. "You're the one who's been down ever since your cousin's wedding last autumn – and don't argue, Elphaba's noticed it too. But yeah, I know him. He asked if I'd deliver this for him, since all the others _somehow_ kept getting lost in the mail."

"I did read the first ones," replied Glinda, a little defensive, "and I met him at the Spring Ball a few months ago, but he's just... He never _said_ anything, Fiyero. He introduced himself and thanked me for some random thing I can't remember and then just _stood_ there for ten minutes until someone took pity on me and pretended Elphie wanted a word. I tried to be nice! He's just..." she searched for a word, trying not to be rude, but failed; "..._boring_."

"He's shy, Glinda. It took him about two weeks of awkwardly trying to blend in at bars just to work up the courage to talk to _me_."

"Maybe _you_ should go riding with him."

Caught off-guard, Fiyero burst out laughing, and Glinda smiled, glad of it. "_Yes_," he chuckled, shaking his head, "yes, I'm sure that's his real motive. After all, it's not like I've ever had a reputation for liking _women_. Oh no, not _me_..." He laughed again.

"I'm just glad not everyone believes what the press keeps saying about you and I," said Glinda lightly. "Really, it's not like we haven't told them often enough."

"Maybe it's a good thing – otherwise you'd have way too many suitors for us to handle." Fiyero picked up Tevien's envelope and pointed it at her. "Will you at least give him a chance? Please? It's really hard to have a good night out with my friends if he's always waiting nervously in a corner. We end up inviting him to play pool with us and, Glinda, he's terrible."

She let out a sharp, almost huffy breath. "I really don't want to."

"Why?"

There was a pause then, a rather sad one. Glinda's smile had slipped away entirely. "Do you remember my last date with a courtier?"

He frowned. "Viscount Brollon? Yeah, I remember. You came home early in a huff and refused to talk about it. The next day the papers were calling you an 'Ice Queen'."

"That was Brollon's doing. He pouted. I'm lucky it didn't last more than a week."

Fiyero frowned. "So what happened?"

"He lied to me, that's what. He spent two weeks being a perfect gentleman and then tried to charm me into excusing his tax evasion. I _hate_ feeling used like that."

Without a word Fiyero moved over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Glinda sighed and leaned against him, grateful. "I'm okay, Fiyero. It was just a nasty surprise."

"Want me to push him in a lake for you?" he offered. "I could talk him into touring the south bank of the Kellswater. No witnesses."

She gave a little laugh, cuddling closer. "You're a good friend, you know," she said. "I'm glad we didn't lose that when we broke up."

"Me too," he said, all teasing aside. "Me too."

Of course, this peaceful quiet Fiyero had something on his mind. "So that's why you won't date Tevien?"

Glinda sighed. "Partly. And I know you're going to say he's not like Brollon and he probably isn't, but I don't want to feel like I'm just taking anyone I can get. I'm not miserable, you know; I like my life. I don't _need_ a boyfriend to be happy. Anymore," she conceded.

"But it would make you happi_er_," replied Fiyero, who wasn't about to take that as an excuse. "Anything else?"

"...His age," admitted Glinda. "Isn't he about five years younger than me?"

"Three, and what difference does that make?"

She shrugged. "It's just... weird. I feel old."

It wasn't the kindest response, but Fiyero just had to laugh. "You're _twenty-two_."

"I know, but I feel old! I always thought I'd be married by now, or at least engaged. Instead I'm just watching everyone else pair off. Did you know Shenshen's going to have a _baby_ soon? All my friends are moving on and I just sit here all by myself writing _speeches_."

Being sour was normal for Glinda when she was really upset. Fiyero tightened his hug. "You like writing speeches. Besides, you still have us."

"No offence, Fiyero, but romantically, I'm a third wheel to you and Elphie. Really, I _am_ happy for you, but it's not the same."

He shifted a bit and looked at her, moving the glass bowl that was now reflecting sunlight straight into his eyes. "I don't get it. If you really _want_ to fall in love with someone, why don't you give it a try?"

Glinda glanced down, a little embarrassed. "Well, I used to think... When I was little, I thought I'd just _know_ who I was going to marry the moment I met him. Just _know_, like _that_!" She snapped her fingers, shaking her head in wry amusement, then shrugged. "I thought it was that way with you, but it wasn't, and I just..." She let out a long breath, and never finished the sentence. Fiyero, who was now getting out of his depth, just shrugged.

"I wouldn't know a thing about love at first sight," he said, "but I think you ought to at least give this guy a chance. He's been trying to talk to you for months."

She sighed, picking up the letter again. "I don't think it'll work out."

"So? At least you've tried, and if nothing else, you'll get him off my back. I haven't won a game of pool for weeks."

Glinda chuckled, shaking her head as she looked at the envelope. "I'm not sure..."

"You've never been scared before," he reminded her. "Just try."

Throwing up her hands, she sighed. "All right!" she said, smiling a bit. "All right, I'll try. Just remember, if it's a disaster, it's all _your_ fault."

"I'm not worried," replied Fiyero, grinning and stretching in his seat: "The Kellswater's still out there."


	16. Sons of the Vinkus

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Author's Notes: I realise it's been chapters since we've seen Fiyero's family, so here's a reminder of who's who among my original characters:

Haral Tiggular: Fiyero's father, King of the Vinkus  
Amadel Tiggular: Fiyero's mother, Queen of the Vinkus  
Narjin, Meru and Dian Tiggular: Fiyero's younger siblings.  
At this point, Fiyero is twenty-four, Narjin is eighteen, Meru is eight, and Dian is six.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen  
_Sons of the Vinkus_

Year 23  
Winter

As a building that was huge, famous, expensive, and fairly old, the Emerald Palace had something of a reputation to live up to. Buildings that are huge, famous, expensive, and fairly old tend to be stereotyped by those who don't live in them, and one of the expectations associated with that cliché is that somewhere, deep inside, there should be at least one secret room, hidden passage, or locked door guarding a splendid secret.

Now, the Emerald Palace had no such mysteries – at least, none that its principle denizens were aware of – but it did have a number of very normal little rooms that most people never knew about, and few would ever imagine the purpose of.

One such place was informally known as the Spying Lounge. It was a cosy little parlour that sat directly above the grand double-doors of the palace's main entrance, and its large windows were draped in lace curtains that let people look out but not in, meaning that those sitting inside could know exactly when an important guest's carriage had just pulled up to the door. This was done, Glinda explained, so that the queen – or whomever, nowadays – could walk down to greet the arrivals at exactly the right moment, rather than risking the graceless tedium of being early or the rudeness of being late.

On this particular day, heavy grey clouds that threatened rain or snow were dimming the usual green sparkle of the city. Elphaba was sitting behind the curtains, legs crossed and impatiently toying with her pointed hat. Oscar was nearby, dressed up the way people expected of their Wonderful Wizard and repeatedly stumbling over his embroidered hems. Glinda sparkled, of course, as beautiful as ever, but she wasn't acting the part – she was fretting, flipping through well-worn pages of a tiny notebook and trying to memorise as much as possible. Fiyero was nowhere to be found.

After one of the papers tore in the rush, Elphaba rolled her eyes. "What are you worried about?" she asked her friend. "You've met them before."

"Not in a formal setting, Elphie," replied Glinda, eyes fixed on the page. "Etiquette in the Vinkus is nothing like in the rest of Oz and I will _not_ mess this up, no matter how... Oh, where did I _put_ it?" she grumbled, flicking through her tattered notes and glancing repeatedly out the window. "Elphie, do you know what Fiyero's great-grandfather's second wife was called?"

"No. I don't think Fiyero does, either, but you can ask him." She paused. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He's coming. There was some last-minute problem with a cake," said Oscar, who was finally managing to walk straight. "He said it won't take long."

"It had _better_ not," Glinda muttered darkly. "It's his family we're welcoming, after all. All right, Oscar, do you know what the cooks said about tonight's dinner? The spiced talla meat and the sumpai–"

"It's all arranged," he promised, patting her shoulder. "Glinda, please relax. Every one of us has met King Haral before, and somehow I doubt Fiyero is going to stand on ceremony for his own family, especially not on his sister's birthday."

"He might, actually," said Elphaba, sitting back in her chair, grinning wickedly. "Glinda threatened him."

Oscar's brow furrowed in puzzled amusement. "With what?"

He never got an answer, though, for at that moment a deep blue carriage came into view far down the main road and Glinda jumped to her feet. "Fiyero!" she called, opening the hallway door. "_Fiyero, where ARE you?_"

A startled maid, who just happened to be right outside the door when Glinda opened it to shout, pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart. "I – I believe Prince Fiyero is already at the gate, ma'am."

"What? Urg!"

In a flash, Glinda disappeared down the stairs. Oscar and Elphaba exchanged an amused glance, and there was a brief silence.

"Do you think we should wait here?" asked the Wizard.

Elphaba considered it, lingering in thought for a few seconds longer than necessary, but shook her head. "She's probably suffered enough."

Oscar chuckled and offered a hand to pull her out of the chair. A moment or so later they stepped into the palace's vast, glimmering green entrance hall, and then out onto the main steps, each of which were long and wide enough to fit a grand piano. Glinda was already there, buttoning up an elegant winter coat lined with fake white fur, standing straight and tall while Fiyero leaned against a wall, content.

Elphaba discreetly took his hand. "Is it ready?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm. Eight cakes, eight kinds of chocolate, eight ice creams and eight presents for my eight-year-old little sister." He shook his head. "Do you know how long it's been since I've seen her? She's going to be so big."

"She's going to be so _sick_," Elphaba replied dryly. "Do you really expect her to eat all that?"

"Oh, hell no. Most of it'll be left over for the rest of the week. It's the idea of it. She loves numbers. I taught her to count," he added proudly.

"Aw," murmured Glinda, smiling as she tilted her head. "You really love her, don't you?"

"Favourite sibling," he replied shamelessly, and shrugged. "I don't know why, really, but Meru... we've always gotten along really well. Better than with my brothers."

"If I recall, Dian's only six, and you've barely lived in the same house as him for more than a few months."

"Better than with Narjin, then." A very light rain was starting to fall, so Fiyero stepped back a bit until he was under the huge ornate overhang which already shielded Oscar and Glinda. Elphaba wasn't bothered by getting a bit wet, and would have stayed where she was if Glinda hadn't fiercely hissed something about hairstyles and fabrics.

By this time, the blue carriage had rolled its way through the main gates and the formal guard (whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to stand around looking pretty) had lined themselves up on either side of the path, stoically watching the misty rain hit their noses. The Vinkun guards were just as stiff, climbing down to bow before servants with umbrellas hurried to shield the Tiggulars from the three or four tiny drops that were actually falling.

Elphaba rolled her eyes. Something to block the frigid winter wind would have been more useful.

Thankfully for her sake, the first person to hop out of that carriage was Meru, and the chirpy little girl ignored formality about as often as her big brother did. "_YERO_!" she cried, jumping to the ground, heedless of the delicacy of her dress, and ran full-speed across the path and up the stairs to be swept up in Fiyero's usual and most enthusiastic hug.

He spun her around, nearly hitting Oscar, but had to put her down faster than usual. "_Oz_, you're tall!"

"Four whole feet!" she announced proudly. "Daddy measured me yesterday."

"Perfect number for today, then – exactly half," said Fiyero, still kneeling and ruffling her hair. "Happy birthday, Sis."

Meru squealed and hugged him again. "I missed you so _much_!"

Behind her, Haral and Narjin were stepping out of the carriage, taking their time so Meru could have her moment of glory. Little Dian and Fiyero's mother Amadel were not coming, as a last-minute letter had informed them less than two days ago. Dian was sick and Amadel wasn't comfortable having the entire royal family away from home all at once. It was a shame, but had only made Fiyero more determined to make this day as perfect as possible.

He was certainly coming close.

"You remember my friends Elphaba and Glinda, right?" he asked Meru, straightening up and holding her hand as they stepped towards the more formal welcoming party. Meru looked a bit shy, but nodded and smiled, making a very proper curtsey to all of them, and she easily shook Elphaba's hand when the green woman wished her a happy birthday. Glinda did the same, adding a traditional Vinkun blessing that she'd memorised for the occasion, and then Fiyero – still holding her hand – led his sister to the only person she hadn't met before: The Wizard.

Oscar, as was not all that surprising, loved children, and he smiled brilliantly as Meru greeted him, then leaned over to shake her hand and say, "Happy Birthday, Princess Meru. This is for you."

From a pocket of his ridiculous robe he produced a small box wrapped in emerald-green paper, and the little girl's shyness melted away as she thanked him, and set to opening the present.

At that point, Fiyero turned to greet his father, shaking his hand and exchanging a few happy but hardly formal words – something which Glinda was sure to be frowning at. The quiet and sometimes sullen Narjin was next, and as Fiyero turned from their father, his eyes landed on his brother's face.

He stopped dead, all traces of a smile dropping from his mouth.

Meru's gleeful thanks for whatever trinket she'd been given suddenly seemed very faint in the background. Elphaba, who stood directly to Fiyero's left, furrowed her brow in confusion as he stared coldly and Narjin looked down, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Then Fiyero swung sharply toward his father, looking – for lack of a better word – betrayed.

Haral just gave a very slight shake of the head and said, "_Later_."

Narjin seemed to take that as his cue, for he lifted his head and offered a hand, saying, "Hello, brother. It's good to see you."

Fiyero looked back, but didn't answer. His face remained dark, his back stiff, and his arms hung straight by his sides, hands curling into loose fists. From her angle, Elphaba could see the muscles in his jaw working as he grit his teeth. Eventually he just said, "Narjin," in a flat voice with a slight nod, then spun on his heel and walked off, hooking an arm around Meru's shoulders and taking her inside, leaving the others behind without so much as a word.

Elphaba was bewildered, and judging by the looks on Glinda and Oscar's faces, they were no less so. Narjin seemed embarrassed; Haral just looked sad. An awkward silence reigned for a moment, broken only by the shuffle of soldiers' feet and Meru's fading voice as they walked away – she, too, was wondering what was wrong, but Fiyero was putting on a cheerful voice and asking if she'd like to open another present early, and that was distraction enough.

Then, in a valiant attempt to salvage the formalities (and probably to console Glinda, who was visibly mortified) Narjin stepped up towards the rest of his hosts, and in so doing, he naturally turned to face them directly. The wind pushed his longish hair back from his brow, and suddenly Elphaba saw that the left side of his face had been tattooed with the same intricate pattern of tiny blue diamonds that, until now, she had only ever seen on King Haral.

"Lady Elphaba," Narjin said politely, bowing a little and offering her his hand. She took it, shook it, and returned the greeting, and as Narjin moved on to Glinda and then the Wizard, she turned to look at Haral.

He offered no explanation, merely went through the motions of pleasant greetings with each of them. Oscar returned them with some discomfort, and then Glinda, trying to keep some of her precious etiquette alive, put on a bright smile and said, "Why don't we all go inside? I'm sure you'd like to settle in and unpack for a while, and I'm afraid the rain seems to be getting worse..."

Her offer of escape was taken up quickly, and soon all the greetings were over, the servants dismissed, and absolutely no answers given.

* * *

Several hours later, neither Meru nor Fiyero had turned up. Optimistically, because it had been planned to the letter as part of their celebration, Glinda decided not to delay the dinner scheduled for sundown – though, considering all the trouble she'd put the cooks through trying to get it right, that might have been more to prevent a riot. As dusk fell, the hosts and guests, with two glaring exceptions, gathered to wait in a comfortable antechamber outside one of the smaller (but typically extravagant) formal dining rooms.

Haral and Narjin were not talking – not, at least, about what had upset Fiyero, which was clearly no mystery to them. Glinda was tense, trying her best to keep up the pretence that absolutely nothing was wrong even though everyone knew better. She was striking up pleasant conversations with Oscar and Haral – Narjin, like Elphaba, didn't bother with the pretence and loitered silently in one corner – but nothing seemed to work. A topic would be offered and the speakers would latch on, making their best effort, but the unspoken issue kept getting in the way, and after a few weak exchanges, they all faded into nothingness.

Awkward silence reigned. Glinda kept hurrying to the door to speak with her assistants, who had been sent to search the palace, and each time they shook their heads, her smile became a little bit stiffer. When a butler arrived to inform them that dinner was served, she almost cried.

However, it was less than a minute later that Meru and Fiyero waltzed in with no apologies, no formality, and no care, entirely absorbed in some chirpy conversation. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but Elphaba suspected that he was deliberately avoiding having to talk to anyone but his sister.

And avoid them he most certainly did.

Meru helped, unknowingly. Although she was now old enough to know that _something_ was wrong, she had been very effectively distracted: As soon as the door opened, she ran in and pounced on her father, excitedly waving two front-row tickets to her favourite musical – the first of Fiyero's ridiculous number of presents.

"And guess _what_!" she cried, practically bouncing. "Yero says he _knows_ _the guy_ who plays Prince Lakal and after the show he's promised to take us _BACKSTAGE_!"

Haral smiled at his daughter, glancing at Fiyero, who seemed calm and at ease, his attention entirely fixed on Meru. "That's wonderful," said the king. "I'm sure you'll have a great time. When's the performance?"

"_Lurlinemas EVE_!" she replied, squealing in a very un-princess-like fashion. "I can't wait I can't wait I can't _wait_!"

The adults all smiled indulgently at her, and Glinda, relieved, suggested that they step into the dining room. "We have another surprise for you," she told Meru, and Fiyero, grinning, stood behind his sister, covering her eyes with his hands and nudging her into a walk.

After careful consideration, Glinda had decided to host Meru's birthday dinner in the silver room, which was fairly small (by palace standards) and in which every surface and ornament was either white, black, or a shiny, reflective silver. It looked impressively expensive without being obscenely so, though it had the unfortunate side effect of emphasising every bit of colour in the clothes, hair, or skin of the diners.

Them, and the eight big cakes iced like rainbows, of course.

Meru gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth, and she turned to look at Fiyero with a look of total delight. "_Eight_ cakes?" she asked.

He grinned. "Eight."

"For _after_ dinner," warned Haral, who had known nothing of this surprise, though he seemed to approve. "Have some real food first; we don't want you to get sick." He nodded at Fiyero, who was extremely pleased with himself, but Narjin, on the other hand, was looking... sad?

This family, Elphaba decided, was impossible to figure out.

Like Glinda, Oscar was pretending that everything was fine. He invited the birthday girl to sit beside him – a privilege which half of Oz would have cheerfully killed for, and which Meru, who was still a well-educated Vinkun Princess, understood the honour of. She accepted with a very proper curtsey, then dashed forward to climb into her chair.

There was, however, a problem: Glinda had arranged the seating plan so that Meru was between the Wizard and her father, directly across from Fiyero, who was in turn next to Narjin, all in respectful hierarchal order – but Fiyero refused to sit next to Narjin.

Silently, but with absolutely no room for argument, Fiyero took his father's seat beside Meru, shifting the chair just enough so that his brother's face was entirely blocked by one large cake. Glinda's head jerked as she glanced between her friend and his assigned seat, lips pressed tight to keep from protesting his behaviour.

Tactfully, Haral just took the empty chair.

The rest of the meal passed in the same strained, forced-smile sort of way. There was a silent agreement that, for Meru's sake, no one would bring up the issue of what was actually wrong, but avoiding it became a painful endeavour. Fiyero was completely focused on his sister, making every effort to amuse and entertain her while flatly ignoring his brother, and only gave brief, barely polite responses to everyone else who spoke to him. After some time it became clear – to Elphaba, at least – that he was trying as hard as Glinda to keep up appearances because he didn't want Meru's day to be spoiled. At the same time, he was tense, jaw set tight, and no laughter ever reached his eyes. His cold rudeness was either patiently excused or ignored.

Meru, thankfully, noticed nothing, and since talking to or about her was the only really safe subject, she was the centre of attention, and the happiest, most spoiled birthday girl in Oz.

On the other hand, Narjin was quiet and still, speaking only when spoken to, though he, too, would smile for his sister and say that yes, of course everything was okay. He gave her a present – one present, his only present – which was well thought-out and special: a necklace of tiny shells gathered from lake creatures, very rare and expensive, exactly the colour of her eyes, and obviously something he'd put a great deal of time and thought into. She liked it and thanked him, putting it on and hugging him for it, but wasn't half as enthusiastic as when Fiyero showered her with his extravagant gifts, one after the other. From her seat beside Narjin, Elphaba couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

All through this, there was absolutely nothing to hint at what was really going on. Glinda might have worked it out, being more intuitive when it came to the moods and feelings of her friends, but she was terribly upset by all this, desperately trying to ignore or excuse Fiyero's rudeness, Narjin's silence, and the general tension in the room. She was in no state to fix other people's problems, and Elphaba spent most of the meal talking quietly over the table, consoling her and promising that everything would be fine. "This was always meant to be a visit with friends, not a state affair. It's not as though the Vinkus is going to be offended."

Glinda put on a tight smile and said no, of course not, but she wished everyone could just be _happy_.

Elphaba wished so, too.

An hour later, after they'd all had their fill of 'real' food and Haral gave his daughter permission to eat her treats, Oscar produced eight tall, thin candles that must have been specially made, and baffled the native Ozians by sticking them _into_ the top of a cake. It took a little while for him to explain the strange traditions of his homeland without losing his wizardly appearance in the eyes of the Tiggulars, but after he'd finished – and sung all the way through a repetitive and truly _ridiculous_ little song – Meru took a huge breath and blew as hard as she could on the burning candles. Fiyero had to help a bit, but they all went out. Oscar applauded and Narjin smiled at his sister, and a servant took away the hot candles before wax could drip onto the cake. "What did you wish for?" asked Oscar.

Her eyes lit up. "You'll grant me a _wish_?"

Oscar froze. "Oh, well..."

"I'm not sure there's anything left to wish _for_," said Haral, kindly, but with an undercurrent of warning to his daughter not to be greedy, which she completely missed. "I think your brothers have already given you the best birthday in Oz."

That wasn't true, really, as the single gift from Narjin could hardly compare with how Fiyero had spoiled her rotten, but no one said anything.

Meru seemed to have taken the question literally. "I wish I could _fly_," she announced dreamily, fidgeting a little in her seat as thin slices were cut from each of the different cakes. "I had a dream I could fly. You know what happened in it?" she asked them all, looking around and expecting them to be interested.

"You flew?" Elphaba asked dryly.

"_All around Oz_!" she exclaimed, nodding brightly. "I was in our carriage and we were going to see Yero and then there was no roof and Daddy and 'Arjin were gone and I could see the _whole sky_ and it was windy and then I looked out the window but there _was_ no window and I was _flying_!" She stopped for breath – and to thank the servant who put the cake slices in front of her – before taking a big bite of the chocolate slice and barely remembering her manners long enough to swallow before continuing. "Know what happened next?"

The adults all shook their heads and murmured polite "no"s, but it was Fiyero whom Meru was looking at, so he asked, "What happened?"

"I was in the _clouds_! I was sitting on a flying cloud and I could see the Emerald City and Munchkinland and Neverdale and Mama was waving from the top of the castle and then cloud turned into a _carpet_ and a _boat_ and–" She stopped abruptly, halfway through bringing a bite of the second cake (this one plain, with blue and white icing) to her mouth. She looked at the Wizard and asked, "Can you make me fly?"

The Wizard squirmed, though it was barely noticeable. He looked down the table, to where his own daughter was starting on the lemon cake. "Erm... Elphaba? Can you?"

If Haral or Narjin found this odd, they said nothing; perhaps they thought it was a test, or her duty or something like that. Elphaba blinked and looked to Meru, who was watching her with big, hopeful eyes.

"Er... no, I can't. It's too dangerous to cast that sort of spell on a person," she explained. "Sorry."

"But Yero said you made some Monkeys fly."

She winced. Fiyero glanced up, looking at her long enough to convey apologies, but turned his head away before Narjin could catch his eye. Elphaba calmly put her fork down.

"I did, yes, but it was an accident. The spell didn't work properly and now I can't fix it."

"But they _have_ wings!" protested Meru, confused. "They _can_ fly."

"Yes, but you don't want to have wings like that, _trust_ me," said Elphaba, jaw tight and trying very, very hard to block out the memory of screams. "You didn't have them in your dream anyway, did you?" she added lightly, trying to change the subject.

Meru shook her head, swallowing a little piece of the third cake (strawberry). "I was on a _boat_. The boat was flying. And the carriage. ...Can you make our carriage fly us home?"

Elphaba opened her mouth to repeat that no, she couldn't, but paused, a thought striking her, and exchanged a glance with Glinda. "Maybe?" she said.

Glinda looked thoughtful, finally distracted from the awkwardness of dinner. "With no enchanter to control it, Elphie? They wouldn't be able to steer. Unless..."

"We give command to the object?" said Elphaba, brow furrowed critically. "A _self-contained_ spell? It'd be dangerous."

"Not if we weave the activating spell into a second object. We'd have to change the verbs to indefinites–"

"We'd need at least three of them–"

"–or there could be a trigger-word, or a mix of both–"

"–your pointing spell could be adjusted–"

"–maybe a magically-receptive object–?"

"–could test it easily enough..."

As was their habit, the two sorceresses had all but forgotten the rest of the world as ideas struck and were ricocheted back and forth between them. It was amusing in that both were entirely unaware of it, but Meru was confused and looked to her big brother for help. He, like Oscar, knew his girls very well and just said, "They'll try."

* * *

Trying seemed to be the theme of the night.

According to Glinda's carefully laid out plan for the evening, after dinner their party of seven was supposed to retire to a formal sitting room to sip tea and talk. In some ways, this was easier than the meal had been, since they weren't obliged to stay in a single group, but in other ways, it was worse.

After spending the rest of dinner scribbling notes and speaking what seemed like gibberish, Elphaba and Glinda had said that there might very well be a way to enchant large objects to fly at the command of a non-magical driver, but it would take a lot of work. In the meantime, however, they were perfectly able to make Meru's _actual_ dream come true, and had her sit on a small rug which they levitated around the room, carefully directing it up and down with their hands. She _shrieked_ with joy.

Once it was over, and after she'd given both women a happy hug, Meru sat down with Elphaba and begged her to explain exactly how the magic worked, even though she hadn't been able to follow a word at dinner. Elphaba tried anyway, more so that she could sit with Fiyero, who stayed with his sister and always kept smiling – until his eyes landed on his brother. Elphaba was trying to work out what was going on, _why_ he was so upset – she was sure those tattoos had something to do with it – and what she could possibly do to keep the evening from falling apart altogether. She failed.

Narjin was staying close to his father and Oscar. Somehow, that only seemed to upset Fiyero more.

Glinda oscillated, first spending time with Haral and Oscar and then trying to talk to her friends, but when she made a light comment about how nice it must be to have a little sister and if _she_ had younger siblings–

"_Don't_, Glinda," snapped Fiyero, in a harsh whisper that Meru, briefly talking to her father, couldn't hear. "Stay out of this."

That hurt her, and after a stunned moment of silence, Glinda stood up to use the washroom, taking a few deep and shaky breaths as she went.

Elphaba hit him. "_What_ is _wrong_ with you?" she hissed.

"You wouldn't understand," he replied, and immediately turned back to Meru, grinning brightly as she returned with some miscellaneous bit of news.

Haral was looking up, and saw this, but never said a word.

Eventually, and to the mutual relief of every adult, Meru began to fall asleep. Her day had been wonderful but exhausting, and after she shook herself out of a doze for the third time, it was tactfully suggested that she go to bed.

Meru protested, but a series of huge yawns betrayed her. Then, after standing up to thank every person in the room and hug most of them (the Wizard still seemed to awe her a little and Elphaba clearly wasn't a hugging type), she took the hand of her patient and smiling nanny, and waved as she walked out of the room.

The moment that door shut, the tension shattered.

"Fiyero–" Narjin began, but too late; Fiyero was already on his feet and storming out of another door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

Elphaba had followed him immediately, but the palace corridors were a twisting maze and he'd vanished around a corner before she could reach him. A while later she finally tracked him down, finding that, instead of distracting himself in the games rooms or vanishing out into the bars in town, he had actually gone and shut himself in his rooms – something that was unusual in itself. He rarely spent time in that suite if he wasn't sleeping or eating (or sleeping with her, to be perfectly honest), and that he had done so now was strange.

Unless, of course, part of him wanted to be found.

There was no answer to her knock, but Elphaba wasn't surprised. She let herself in, closing the door behind her before walking up to the fireplace, where Fiyero sat silently in an armchair, facing the dancing flames. His face was hard and he rested his chin in one hand, thinking. He didn't acknowledge her, but when she took the nearest seat and asked, "Do you plan to sulk the whole time they're here?", he sighed.

"I'm not sulking, Elphaba," he said, eyes on the fire. "I know it looks it, but I have a reason. I have a right to be angry."

"You made Glinda cry, you know. She worked really hard to learn Vinkun etiquette and it barely lasted two minutes."

"She'll get over it."

Elphaba blinked, startled. "It's not like you to say something like that."

That, apparently, got to him. He dropped his arm and shook his head, sighing again. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'll apologise to her later."

"And your brother?"

"He doesn't deserve it."

Wondering if she had ever been this stubborn – and knowing that she probably had – Elphaba shook her head. After a moment's thought, she dragged her chair over until she was blocking his view of the fire and asked one question: "Why?"

Fiyero frowned, hesitated, but finally answered.

"There's... a tradition. A very old Arjiki tradition of using special tattoos to announce who we are and why we're important. You've probably read about it. A few centuries ago everyone wore them, but chief families like mine had the most elaborate patterns. Most people got lazy and stopped doing it, but it's still habit for our leaders to wear at least something small to show they're Arjiki, and proud of it."

Elphaba was puzzled. "I've only ever seen your father wear it."

"He's the only one who does, since my grandfather died. My great-great-grandfather had the idea of taking tattoos at the same time as taking the crown, so ever since, wearing the diamonds has been more or less a symbol of being king."

Suddenly understanding, Elphaba winced. "And by being tattooed now, before your father steps down..."

"Narjin's basically saying that he expects to get the crown," finished Fiyero. "He thinks I'm not good enough."

"Well... that's going a bit far," said Elphaba, trying to sound reasonable. "He's your brother. Maybe he thinks the tradition should change to include your entire family – you're all royal, after all."

"No, Narjin's in love with tradition. He thinks any changes are disrespectful, and wouldn't do it unless it was a question of life or death. He always thinks he's right, anyway."

"Does he? Fiyero, you've only seen him twice in the last three _years_. Maybe he's grown up."

"Sure he has. Enough to think he's ready to be king."

Elphaba huffed, frustrated. "You're being ridiculous."

"Don't you mean 'really stupid'?"

"_Stop_ it," she snapped, perhaps more harshly than she would have if she weren't still feeling guilty for that years-old slight. "_I_ think you'd be a good king. I've seen you working hard to help Oz, and I know you could do it. What Narjin thinks doesn't matter; it's up to your father to choose which of you will be best for the country."

"And Narjin's spent all this time working at home and showing off what he can do. Father let him have the tattoos. He wouldn't do that unless he'd already decided."

"You can't know that," insisted Elphaba, though she was skating thin ice, for she couldn't come up with one reasonable explanation that might console him. Biting back her temper, she leaned forward, reaching for his hand. "Why don't you talk to them?" she suggested. "Your father, at least. Ask him what's happened."

"No."

"Fiyero–"

"_No_."

She sighed irritably as he slumped back in the chair, refusing to look at her and allowing his eyes to drift over to some boring bit of architecture, cheek resting on his fist again, definitely sulking.

"Fine," she said, standing and shoving her chair back as she went. "Fine. Then I will."

He didn't answer, which only annoyed her more, and she left, shutting the door more loudly than necessary.

Fiyero didn't care. He loved Elphaba, but she didn't understand. She couldn't. She hadn't spent her life thinking her family loved her only to be so harshly and abruptly let down. No wonder his mother hadn't come along for the trip; she'd never believed her elder son could make a good king – not since he was a child, at least. She wasn't heartless, but being royalty had never stopped the Tiggulars from shouting and fighting just like every other family, and Amadel had long since become fed up with the bickering of her children. She wouldn't have seen the point of coming along. Haral, however...

Fiyero had always thought of himself as being close to his family, despite his scandalous behaviour, and closest of all to his father. They had been harmonic, always spending a lot of time together, and as a child, it was his father he'd always gone to with his troubles, not his mother. Haral was the calm one, the gentle one, the one who would give him a hug to make it all better and quietly explain _why_ Mother was angry or the baby was in tears. Fiyero might have been prepared for such a cruel gesture from his brother, but never, ever, from Haral.

For the twenty or so minutes that Elphaba was gone – probably asking around for a _logical_ explanation, he thought sourly – Fiyero wallowed in this hurt. He wasn't like her; he couldn't analyse his feelings or pack them away, one by one, into neatly organised boxes. He felt them, and felt them in full, so by the time the door to his suite opened again, he was quite thoroughly swallowed up in resentment.

"You should have just sent a letter," he said loudly, not looking up. "Or did you think it was _that_ obvious that only Narjin would be good enough for the Vinkus?"

"Father didn't know," said an unexpected voice, and Fiyero whipped around to see his brother looking contrite and sheepish, standing uncomfortably some distance away. He opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but had no chance.

"Get out."

"Look, can we–?"

"I don't want to _talk_."

"I'm _sorry_!" declared Narjin, and it was enough to forestall being thrown out by force. "I was at a party, I was drinking, and I thought it was a good idea. I wish I hadn't."

"Well, you _did_, and I don't think even Elphaba's spells could get rid of them even if you'd want her to."

Narjin scowled. "I never said I didn't, Fiyero. You're putting words in my mouth – _again_," he added, with some resentment of his own. "I thought you'd understand what it's like to do something stupid and regret it in the morning."

Fiyero flinched. "I never did anything like _that_. I don't care if you were drunk. It doesn't change things."

"Father hasn't said anything to me about being king."

"We both know he's been grooming you since the day I was expelled from Quox," replied Fiyero, looking at the fireplace again. "Why don't you just head the next council meeting and be done with it? Or have they already asked you to?"

Narjin frowned. "You know what? This isn't all about _you_. I could be a good king, Fiyero, I've worked really hard for it. But you're the elder brother and I respect that. I didn't get these–" he waved a hand at the left his face "–just to hurt you."

"But you think the only reason I could be king is because I'm older. Thanks a lot."

Being neither exceptionally diplomatic nor particularly patient, this was more than Narjin could take. "I came here to _apologise_," he snapped. "I guess I shouldn't have bothered."

He left abruptly, making for the third slammed door of the evening. Fiyero sighed. He didn't regret anything he'd said, but part of him wished it wouldn't drive everyone away so fast.

The fire crackled. Fiyero's mood didn't change.

Not long after, Elphaba's voice could be heard through the thick wood of the door – worried, frustrated... mostly worried. The door opened and Haral came in, quiet and sombre. He didn't patronise his son with any of the empty consolations he'd have offered a child. Instead he just said, "Your mother and I never approved of Narjin taking the diamonds like that. He was wrong to do so."

Though now he already knew this, Fiyero softened a little at the confirmation. His father took a seat in the armchair Elphaba had left, smooth, efficient and calm.

"Do you want him to be king?" asked Fiyero, without venom, but his eyes were still fixed on the flames. Haral sighed.

"Son, I don't know," he said. "I wish I didn't have to choose at all, but Narjin will finish his degree soon and I'm getting old." He sank back into the cushioned chair, weary bones appreciating its comfort. "Your brother... is capable. This one lapse in judgement aside, he's also been very respectful; he knows you have first right to the crown and has never acted as anything other than second in line."

"But he wants the job."

Haral nodded slowly. "He wants it. I don't think he knows what else he'll do with his life, but he could find something. The question, Fiyero, is whether or not _you_ want it."

At last Haral's son looked at him, firelight flickering across his face. He seemed vulnerable. His voice was flat. "Would you let me?"

Very serious, the older man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yes," he said. "Yes, Fiyero, I'd be proud to make you our king. I... have had my doubts–" and that was the understatement of the year "–but the things you've done since coming to the City... I couldn't be more impressed. Your mother has taken to reading newspapers in bed every morning just to see what else you've done. You haven't been home much," he noted, "and that's a problem, but as long as you spend a few years in the Vinkus before I step down, it shouldn't make a difference. But, Fiyero..."

He hesitated, and Fiyero, who had been feeling a wonderful glow of joy ballooning inside his chest, froze. "What?"

"We need to decide _soon_. I have a few good years left, but I'm getting tired, and I don't want to be working until I die. Your brother will finish school within the year, and it wouldn't be fair to let him keep hoping. Now, I could make a public statement as early as tomorrow morning, but I need to know: Do you _want_ to be king?"

For a long time, Fiyero was quiet.

Haral waited patiently, watching as his son considered the future. Fiyero's eyes roamed the room, touching on a few gathered trinkets, some pictures, and a woman's black coat, hanging over the couch and evidently forgotten some time ago. He looked out the window, at the snow, then back to the fire, and up to his father's face. The thin, whirling pattern of blue tattoos stared back at him.

"... No," he said at last. "No, Dad, I don't."

Haral paused, searching for any trace of doubt in Fiyero's usually open, very readable face. There was none.

"Why?"

He shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "I never wanted it, really – I just don't want to be the idiot brother who couldn't _do_ the job."

That was reasonable, if hard for a father to listen to. "We don't doubt you, Fiyero."

"You _did_," he replied. "You and Mother and Narjin and half the Vinkus and most of Oz. I want to prove them wrong, but that's the only real reason, and it's not good enough." Shrugging, he added, "I like it here, Dad. I like what I do. I miss home, but I want to stay, and if that means that everyone but you and Meru and Elphaba think I'm not good enough... I don't really care."

Oh, but he did care, and Haral knew his son better than to believe that. He could have protested, argued that Amadel and Narjin also knew he was capable, as did Lady Glinda and the Wizard himself, apparently, but he also knew that words – even ones as true as those – wouldn't mean much to his son. He needed something more, something tangible... some kind of gesture.

And he had one.

"You know," he said lightly, "my great-grandfather had a good idea when he decided to associate the Arjiki diamonds with the crown. It sent a very clear message, to everyone, about who he was and why he was worthy of respect."

Fiyero glanced up, puzzled. Quietly, but with an intense look in his eyes, Haral added, "I have the blue ink with me. If you like, I think you should wear them too, king or no. You're my son, Fiyero, and I want everyone to know that I'm proud of you."

"...Dad," breathed Fiyero, taken aback and deeply touched, "... thanks."

* * *

Come morning, Elphaba was getting a little worried. Neither Haral nor Fiyero had been seen since she led the Vinkun king to his son's room, grumbling all the time about stupid traditions and stupid, _stupid_ symbolism. Haral had said nothing, just let her rant, but when they reached the door and she turned the handle, he'd paused and said, "Thank you for caring about him."

Then he vanished.

After sharing breakfast with Glinda and evading Meru, who had woken up with a stomach-ache that dulled her usual enthusiasm, Elphaba had pretended to work for an hour before giving it up as hopeless. Five minutes later, she was outside Fiyero's door again.

She knocked and called his name. A faint, low sound was the only reply.

Inside it was dark and stuffy. The fireplace must have snuffed out on its own sometime during the night and the curtains were all still shut, light twinkling through their weak spots and around the edges. Elphaba walked towards them, and in the dim light she noticed the painfully thin steel needles that lay on a plate on the low parlour table, next to a bowl of stale water.

When she pulled open the curtains there was a sudden moan. Turning around, she found Fiyero lying on the couch, curled on his side with an arm raised to shield his eyes. He was still dressed in the same clothes as he'd worn at dinner and one palm was pressed to his face, holding down a cloth stained with brown and blue. He looked pathetic. Elphaba opened the window anyway, letting in the fresh air, and then sat down beside him, blocking the most direct light with her body.

"'m sorry," he said, blindly reaching for her hand. "Sorry I was grumpy."

She accepted, squeezing his fingers, but said, "It's not me you need to say sorry to."

"Mrph. I know. 'll find Glinda and 'Arjin later." He opened his eyes – then winced and burrowed back into the pillow. "I'm not going to be king."

Elphaba hesitated, still holding his hand. "You don't sound too upset about that."

"M'not," he said. "It's funny."

He squinted up at her and, possibly deciding that he just wasn't up for explaining it, forced himself to sit. He took his hand – and what looked like the remnants of a cloth-covered ice pack – away from the left side of his face.

He had the tattoos. They were beautiful.

Thin lines of blue diamonds, interlocking in chains, traced the rim of his eyebrow and swirled down his temple, joining up in a larger diamond shape before running down his cheek. Four more lines wrapped lightly around the curve of his forehead, the highest just brushing his hairline. There were so many, all so small, linking into each other... it must have taken hours.

His face was swollen and obviously sore. Reddened skin shone with a layer of grease, partly wiped off by the cloth – it was some kind of ointment with a faintly herbal smell, obviously part of the healing process. She reached out, then stopped, pulling her hand back. Fiyero smiled, though clearly it hurt a bit. "Go ahead, touch," he said. "I don't mind."

Careful, as gently as she knew how, Elphaba traced her fingertips over the new pattern, feeling the remaining grease slide as she moved. She touched the end of each the diamond chain on his forehead, following the delicate lines down to the edge of his eye, then sliding lower, towards his mouth. "Your father did this?"

"He wants them to know he's proud of me. He loves me."

She smiled. "I know."

Shifting a little, Fiyero added, "I _should_'ve known. I was being an idiot, wasn't I?"

"Yes. Well, mostly. You were hurt. You did have a right to be angry. I'm glad, though."

He turned, puzzled. "Glad?"

With a little laugh, Elphaba leaned forward and kissed him, briefly tasting the ointment. "Glad," she said. "I like your diamonds."

* * *

Author's Note: Using the few fuzzy pictures available from the show's makeup tests and documentary, I sketched out what I think Fiyero's tattoos were supposed to look like in the musical and played around a bit. You can find the links on my bio.


	17. The Things We Do For Love

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen  
_The Things We Do For Love_

Year 24  
Autumn

A tired sigh. "Well, they can't just be _gone_."

A rustle of papers. "I know I put them around here somewhere..."

More rustling. The _thump_ of toppled objects. "You're sure they're not in the other pile?"

"I checked twice." A sigh. "Chistery, can you see my notes on locomotion spells anywhere? There's about five sheets tied together."

Sheepishly, Chistery lifted his head to glance over the top of the five sheets he'd snitched earlier that morning. Beyond his cosy little chair, Glinda and Elphaba were stalking around their workshop, lifting books and shuffling papers, digging through the small mountain that had been building up on the tables for weeks. Nearby was a life-sized rag doll which stood awkwardly upright in a pair of heavily-enchanted linen trousers.

"What notes, Miss Glinda?"

Knowing that innocent tone all too well, both women turned to him, and then Elphaba frowned and stepped forward, holding her hand out expectantly. Chistery grudgingly gave her the papers, muttering, "Was just curious."

"We said you're welcome to _watch_," chided Glinda gently, re-stacking the books. "You promised not to get in the way."

"Am sorry." He waited for a moment, watching as Elphaba smoothed out some creases and read over the notes, but having never had much patience he soon asked, "Yous really think this will work? Will Miss Nessrose be able to walk?"

"Hopefully," sighed Elphaba, flipping the page to look for any writing on the reverse. "Okay, Glinda? You were right; it has '_pah_' affixed to all sorts of nouns here, so I think we can just weave it into the second line without having to inflect anything around it."

Glinda nodded, writing that down, and Chistery asked, "What's '_pah_' mean?"

"'Strong', basically," Elphaba told him, picking up some chalk and walking to the large and dusty blackboard they had hanging on one wall. "Nessa's legs aren't able to hold her body up, so we need to make sure the spell we put on those clothes gives her strength as well as control of her movements."

Pausing, she considered the large chalk sketch they had drawn up months ago. It depicted a leg – human, naturally – with every muscle carefully outlined and arrows pointing along the bones. It was surrounded on each side by a pair of thick lines that were meant to represent the fabric of the trousers they were using for this experiment. The rest of the board was covered in a multitude of foreign words, some half erased or written on top of each other, detailing the spell's incantation. Elphaba was re-drawing some lines around the knee, making little alterations to the words on her paper and muttering about joints and angles. At last she dusted off her hands and turned back to the doll.

"All right, let's try this. Chistery, you might want to stand back," she warned. The Monkey scuttled over to stand behind Glinda, and then Elphaba began her chant.

First there was a glow; the doll didn't react, but the spell made the plain linen trousers brighten with a reddish sort of light. Elphaba's brow furrowed, but she couldn't stop halfway. Glinda, on the other hand, scowled and looked at the paper, quietly muttering, "Oh, it's 'calda' again... stupid... only word for 'restore'... just has to mean 'colour', too..."

Chistery paid little attention, more interested in the results than the cause. As Elphaba spoke, moving her hands over the fabric of the trousers as though moulding her magic to fit them, the doll shuddered, and as the last words were spoken, one stuffed leg shot forward, sticking out horizontally and forcing a startled Elphaba to jump back.

The doll's leg stayed suspended for a moment, then crashed down to the floor and bent at the knee, just as it was meant to. The girls held their breath, waiting, waiting...

The doll took another step, but this time when it hit the ground, the fabric knee bent backwards. Had it been Nessa and not a rag imitation wearing those trousers, they would have broken her bones.

Elphaba sighed, stepping back and dropping onto a bench as the doll continued to walk clumsily around, one knee bending forward, the other back. "Damn it."

Glinda patted her shoulder, murmuring the counter-spell that would stop their rag zombie from walking out a window. "It was worth a try, Elphie. At least you found a way to make it bend."

"That's useless if we can't direct the angle," she muttered sourly. "We just don't have the words to give instructions that specific. I really, _really_ wish we had a complete language; bits and pieces aren't good enough."

Chistery came over and gave her a hug. "Miss Nessrose will be happy you tried anyway. Tell her you is getting closer."

Elphaba smiled at him and returned the gesture, but shook her head. "Actually, I haven't told her anything yet. I don't want to get her hopes up. But thanks, Chistery."

He grinned.

A few steps away, Glinda was examining the doll, arms folded and one finger tapping against her elbow. "Elphie," she said at last, sighing, "I don't think bracing her legs this way is going to work at all."

"Why not?" asked Elphaba, puzzled. "We need to make sure her body is supported by _something_, and like you said, she can wear these under a dress much more easily than a metal frame. And they're more comfortable."

"But look at the feet," said Glinda, pointing. Elphaba leaned forward in her chair to see around the table, then winced. The enchanted trousers were stiff and tight and straight, with all the consistency of stone-cold tin. The floppy doll feet, only marginally more fragile than human tissue, were being split in two by hemlines that would normally bunch up around the ankle. It looked painful.

"Couldn't we try enchanting her socks, too? Or get her some strong boots?"

"I don't know. It might clash with the trouser spell. We could enchant her stockings, but then there would be no way to give her ankles the flexibility they'll need." Glinda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Maybe we should just go back to modifying the auto-mobility spell..." she trailed off as Elphaba began shaking her head. "Why not?"

"Because putting the magic into an object is always going to be a hundred times safer than casting it directly on her – I'm not going to risk making her grow an extra pair of legs. It _will_ work. We just haven't found the right spell yet."

Glinda bit her tongue. She wanted to say that she thought they might never succeed, that maybe they should try something a little more conventional for a while, but knew better than to suggest it. Elphaba had been trying to make this spell work for Nessa since the day she'd come back from settling that fight about Boq, and when pressed, would only say that if she could use her magic to help strangers, then she owed her sister the same. She had repeatedly refused to settle for half a solution, so Glinda shook her head and said nothing, and just went back to re-reading their notebooks.

About ten minutes later, when the two of them were wiping off the chalkboard and Chistery, bored, had flittered out the window to join the birds, there was the sudden, muffled sound of running footsteps out in the corridor. The girls paused to listen, and when someone rapped hard on the door of their workshop, they exchanged a puzzled glance; it was rare for anyone to disturb them in here, and they'd made it very clear that they were taking the entire morning off from work.

Glinda went to answer. Standing stiffly behind the door was a young man, one of the Wizard's junior assistants. He was breathing hard. "Lady Glinda," he said as properly as he could, "His Ozness has urgent business to discuss with you. He is waiting in his study."

This provoked no reaction from Elphaba beyond a small huff of irritation, but Glinda's lips pressed into a thin, worried line. Given that her back was turned to the room, Elphaba didn't see it, so when Glinda said, "I'll be there as soon as I can," the other woman turned around in surprise.

"You're leaving?" she asked. "We still have at least another hour free."

Scurrying around trying to find her discarded heels and appointments folder, Glinda shook her head. "I think I know what this is, Elphie, and if so, it really can't wait. I'll see you at the cabinet meeting at three." She hesitated, buckling one shoe, and added, "Don't... don't try any new spells without me, okay?"

Elphaba raised both eyebrows; that was an odd thing to ask. Still, no reason to refuse. "I don't think I'm going to get that far today anyway."

"Good. Well, not good, but... you know what I mean," said Glinda, hobbling around on one heel as she snatched up the other shoe, cursing herself for kicking them off in the first place. Comfort had its price.

"Remind Oscar that our meeting with the Quadling Chief was moved to one o'clock, will you?" asked Elphaba, offering a hand to help her friend balance as she forced her foot into the narrow shoe. Glinda nodded, looking distracted, and only a few moments later, had hurried out the door.

Her friends had done stranger things before, so Elphaba just shrugged and turned back to her work, mentally juggling the virtues of using "_ambulan_" versus "_adney_" as the 'movement' command in her spell.

She stayed quietly in the workshop for another two hours, after which she reluctantly packed up and went to meet her assistants, gather updates on a handful of minor problems, and make final preparations for discussing some touchy land rights issues with the Quadlings. Oscar was supposed to join her in her office about ten minutes beforehand so they could compare notes one last time, make sure they were agreed on the limits and negotiable areas of their offer, and then formally arrive together at this very important meeting.

He never turned up.

* * *

_BANG_.

Two guards, under the painfully false impression that manning a corridor would be easy work, jumped and barely braced themselves in time to keep from being hit by the two large, heavy wooden doors that were flung open by the magic of their livid Grand Vizier.

"_Where is he_?" she demanded, storming out into the hall. "_WHERE IS HE?_"

The men wisely kept quiet. She didn't seem to be asking them, which was a profound relief, and upon seeing the mostly-empty hall she hesitated only a moment before striding onwards, dark green skirts swishing around her ankles.

However, her voice had carried farther than her sight, and from around another corner Glinda suddenly appeared, stumbling a little and looking flustered, trying to gesture for quiet. Elphaba did not care. "_Where_ _IS _he, Glinda? I spent _weeks_ setting this up and _you're_ the one who says it's so bad for diplomacy if–"

"He's _sick_," hissed Glinda, dragging her aside. Caught off-guard, Elphaba did not resist.

"He's what?"

"Sick, Elphie, he's really, _really_ sick." Glinda looked worried, she noticed, and _very_ upset. She pulled her friend under the shelter of a large pillar up against a wall, looking around to make sure no one could overhear. "I'm sorry, Elphie, but that's why they called me away earlier; he needed my help. I promised I wouldn't tell you, but, well... after what's happened, I think you have to know."

Elphaba frowned, brow furrowing as she looked at her friend. "When you say 'sick'... You're not just talking about a head cold, are you?"

"No," she said quietly. "I mean, he's not dying, but it's bad." Reluctantly, she added, "He sort of... poisoned himself. By accident – he didn't mean to, of course! – but..." Another sigh; she really didn't want to say this. "Elphie, you know that green elixir your mother had, right? It has a lot of alcohol in it and–"

"You mean he's been _drinking_?"

A white hand clapped over her mouth and Glinda's eyes flashed. In a low growl she said, "Don't you _dare_ get angry! He's been _trying_ to degreenify you!"

She blinked. "_What_?"

Looking around at the handful of people scattered around the corridor, Glinda shook her head. "Not here," she said, still whispering. "Come with me."

Elphaba followed somewhat distractedly, letting herself be dragged by the wrist into one of the smaller conference rooms. Waiting only long enough to make sure it was empty, Glinda shut the door and turned on her friend, arms folded and letting out a tight breath. "He's been trying to degreenify you," she repeated. "He's been at it for months now, but today, it went wrong."

Shaking her head, Elphaba took a seat in one of the nearest chairs. "How could he be trying that without me? Why would it hurt him?"

Glinda sat down tiredly on the table, her off-white knitted wrap lumping messily behind her. "Elphie, you and I both know that there isn't a _hope_ of reversing whatever made your skin green without knowing exactly what was in the mixture your mother drank," she said, looking at her friend, who nodded. "Oscar's been trying to re-create it so we can work backwards from the recipe, but the only way to know if he's got it right is to drink some of each and see if the tastes and effects match."

Elphaba gaped at her, incredulous, her jaw actually starting to drop. "He's been _taste-testing_? With a mix of potions and spirits? That's not just _stupid_, that's suicidal!"

"I _know_," snapped Glinda suddenly, flinging herself off the table and starting to pace. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. It didn't work. "I know, and that's what I told him, but he wouldn't listen. I've spent three _months_ turning our potion theory books inside-out trying to make sure that nothing he made was dangerous, but when none of them worked he started trying stranger and stranger things, and now look what's happened! How do you think this makes me feel?"

Her friend stared. "You've been helping him?"

"What choice did I have? He would have done it with or without my help, but without could have killed him." She snorted, running a hand through her blonde curls as she stalked around the room. "It almost _did_."

For a long moment Elphaba was quiet, watching the carpeted floor as Glinda continued to pace over it, the dark reds and whites of her dress seeming obscenely cheery. This was... unexpected. She wasn't sure what to do. At last she just asked, "Is he all right?"

Shoulders slumping, Glinda nodded, coming back to sit in a proper chair. "Fiyero was with him and we've always made sure to have an... oh, I forget the word. One of those medicines that make you throw up everything in your stomach – emetic, that's it; an emetic. The poison's all out now. He's in bed."

Elphaba nodded quietly, leaning forward, hands clasped and elbows on her knees. "Do you know what went wrong?"

"I think so," said Glinda, rubbing her forehead. "If I'm right, then the proportions of the potion ingredients he used this time tripled the effect of the alcohol, which would explain why it was so much stronger than we predicted. But either way, he's been using some very potent things in those brews, so it might just be that the toxins have been piling up in his blood. I know this is the worst thing to say to you right now, Elphie, but I don't think we can let him try it again. It's just too risky."

Again, she nodded, trying not to think too much about what that meant. "Why didn't he tell me, Glinda?" she asked quietly. "I know you're better at potions than me, but I could have helped somehow. If he's only been doing this for _me_..."

Glinda leaned back in the chair, wearing a sad, almost ironic little smile. "Hope is cruel, Elphie," she said. "He didn't want to get your hopes up, and neither did I. Or Fiyero. We knew it would hurt you if we failed."

They were right, it did, and Elphaba didn't bother trying to deny it. She had thought, and would have liked to think, that she was over this particular disappointment, and had been ever since the day she'd learned that the Wonderful Wizard was a fraud, but hope was ever irrational, and she'd forgotten about it for so long that losing it again had an extra sting she was entirely unprepared for.

But, because she was Elphaba, and because she was an adult who had long since learned that there were some dreams that would never come true, she took a deep breath, swallowed, and let that sting fade into the background.

"You said three months?" she asked at last. "He's been at it for that long?"

Glinda nodded. "That's when he asked for my help. It was only a few days after Baron Appleton made that 'coloured' comment about you in a cabinet meeting, and it was obvious to all of us how much it bothered you. He hates himself for doing that to you, even accidentally." She gave another odd little smile. "It's funny, you know; he sounds just like you do when you talk about trying to help Nessa. You're more alike than you realise."

There was nothing Elphaba could say to that, so she stayed quiet, thinking. Part of her – the harsher, colder part – wanted to slap Oscar for what he'd done, both for taking stupid chances and for inadvertently hurting her with hope, but the rest of her – the softer, more daughterly part that was much too vulnerable to expose – was touched, and grateful.

She looked up at Glinda, knowing she owed her friend a great many thanks, but knowing, also, that there was someone else who deserved it more. "Can I see him?" she asked.

Glinda smiled faintly. "Sure."

* * *

A few minutes later, after evading some persistent assistants and a reporter who'd heard about the snubbing of the Quadling Chief, Elphaba found herself feeling oddly hesitant as she raised a hand to knock on one of the most ornate doors in the palace.

It was a moment before a muffled voice said, "Come in." She turned the handle.

This part of the Wizard's suite had always been totally private; she'd never before set foot inside. The adjoining rooms, yes – the informal dining room was practically a lounge for the four of them – but his bedroom had always been treated with the same respect as her own apartments, and really, there had never been a reason. Apparently only a few select servants were allowed to clean this place, and while elitist, it was fair enough, since Oscar needed at least one place where he could risk being his flawed human self.

It showed. The first thing Elphaba noticed was the amount of _stuff_ he'd collected on shelves that were, if not crammed, then certainly too full to hold anything else. Most of the objects weren't familiar to her – worn, tired-looking things presumably from his homeland – but others were painfully so; nearly half the items on display were photographs or little trinkets that related either to Elphaba herself or to her mother. A whole array of images were lined up in neat frames along the top of the mantle and every bookshelf, some from Oscar's first trip to Munchkinland, others gathered from Melena's school days or official portraits. A dozen or so showed mother and daughter playing with face paint – copies of the pictures she kept in her own room, which he'd asked for and she'd long since forgotten about – while others showed Elphaba as an adult; at her graduation, her presentation as Grand Vizier, school pictures, and what looked like the original shots of images taken for newspaper articles. Only a few were unfamiliar, posed and brownish images of people in strange clothes whom she assumed were Oscar's long-lost friends and family. All these were arranged in no logical order, mixed together comfortably, almost haphazardly, wherever he had place to put them. It looked cosy, normal.

But it wasn't. Yes, at first glance it seemed to be simply one man's proud and sentimental display of memories, but it just wasn't _real_. He hadn't _known_ Melena Thropp – he'd said so himself. They'd had a fling and parted ways, and he seemed to have forgotten all about her until the day he realised he had a daughter – yet here were her pictures, shown off the way a widower would remember his wife. As Elphaba looked again, it seemed so artificial, and in a way, pathetic. He was pretending he still had a family.

Only, it wasn't all a lie. He still had a daughter. Sort of.

The man himself was lying still in bed, small and shaded from the afternoon sun by heavy green curtains that weren't quite enough to keep the light out; large squares of bright jade shone in, heating the room and tinting everything the same thin colour. Elphaba approached, uncertain, and then Oscar rolled over to face her.

He looked _old_. Not the cheery sort of grey-haired and laugh-lined 'old' she was used to, but papery thin and frail, with skin so pale it was almost transparent and a clammy sheen of sweat that could never be good. It was, she knew, just the effect of heaving up all the contents of his stomach, and he would be fine once the emetic wore off and he was able to keep some food down, but looking at him, she felt a sharp and not wholly unwelcome pang of worry.

Even after learning just how un-wonderful a wizard he was, Elphaba had never entirely registered the fact that he was human, and therefore, perfectly capable of dying. It seemed all too melodramatic to be thinking like that, but since getting to know him, and choosing to let go of her hate for what he'd done, Elphaba had slowly come to realise that she would be very sorry to lose him.

Not that she would ever admit it.

He smiled at her, and it looked like it took too much effort. "Elphaba," he said happily. "I thought that was you. Come in, sit–" he lost his breath a moment, trying to move and talk at the same time "–sit down."

She did so, taking a chair that had been left right beside the bed – probably by Fiyero, judging by the playing cards and gambling chips left stacked on the bedside cabinet. Oscar hauled himself upright, pulling some loose blankets with him and wrapping them back around his shoulders before leaning into the pillows. "So," he said brightly. "What brings you here?"

For a moment, she just _looked_ at him, half exasperated, half... well, not. Then in a flat voice she said, "I can't believe you _did_ that."

His smile faltered. "Ah," he said. "Glinda told you."

"Did you really think she wouldn't?"

He shrugged. "All she said was that she'd find an excuse to satisfy the Quadlings for me. I am sorry I missed that, you know."

She waved it off, not letting him distract her; they could deal with Chief Tiger Claw later. "What were you _thinking_?" she demanded. "Why take such a stupid risk? You had to know how dangerous it could be."

"Well, yes," he admitted in a tone far too nonchalant for the subject. "But I thought it was worth a try. For a noble cause and all."

"Getting yourself killed isn't noble, and it wouldn't have helped anyway." He winced and, admitting that she was being unnecessarily harsh, she added, "I wouldn't want anyone to die for something as stupid as my vanity."

"Even me?" he asked cheekily, trying to tease her, but Elphaba replied very seriously

"Especially you. _Don't_ do it again."

He was taken aback, surprised that she was willing to say something that showed such open concern. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then smiled. "Well, I wasn't planning to," he said in the light, casual manner that always made their conversations easier. "We weren't really getting anywhere anyway; the storeroom Queen Ozma let me use had all sorts of strange things in it that I never did find back. Chances are I used at least one of them in the elixir. I'm sorry, Elphaba."

She shook her head, but couldn't quite keep her eyes from drifting to the floor. "It's all right," she said softly. "Realistically, I gave up on any real hope a long time ago. Even if we did know what was in the mix, it's not as though there's any potion or spell that's known to undo this kind of transformation, and... I really just have to accept it. This is what I am. _Green_. Other people have worse problems."

By this point she was more or less speaking to herself, saying out loud the things she'd repeated in her head year after year, so it took her by surprise when Oscar reacted. He reached out with a hand that was still slightly unsteady to take hers, and she looked up to see him smiling warmly at her, blue eyes bright with a hint of sadness, and looking really _proud_.

"You are so good, Elphaba," he said gently. "Inside, where it counts, you are a truly _good_ person. I wish so much that I could help you, and that the rest of Oz wasn't so... so fixated on exteriors. You deserve better."

"You've given me a lot already," she replied, uncomfortable with this much sentimentality. "I appreciate it."

"The debt I owe you can never be repaid," he replied, squeezing her fingers as he looked at the skin of her hands. "This was the only chance. I at least had to try."

Left unsaid were other things, things they both knew perfectly well because they'd been said so many times before – not in words, save for a few rare occasions, but in gestures, almost constantly. "_I'm your father_," he wanted to say, "_even if you'll never want me, I'm your father, and I love you. The day we met I said I'd do anything for you, and I __meant__ it._"

One such gesture was the silver necklace he'd given her for her twentieth birthday. At that moment it was sitting on a shelf in her room and, if not for the cleaning staff, would probably have long since been covered in a layer of dust. Realising that suddenly made Elphaba feel guilty; she liked that necklace, with its little starburst pendant. She promised herself she would wear it more often.

There was a long silence.

The problem Oscar and Elphaba had with these sorts of emotional moments was not that they weren't sincere, but that neither of them ever had a clue what to say next. Aside from abruptly changing the subject, there was really no easy way to end that kind of conversation, and so the few times such a thing actually occurred, they usually just let it fade awkwardly away.

Silence was welcome, though. When Elphaba was uncomfortable, she would either clam up entirely or stammer, and when Oscar was uncomfortable, he chattered to fill the space, so being able to sit together in an easy silence was one of the few things that really showed how much peace had grown between them. Given that Oscar was really in no condition to exert a lot of energy, and that Elphaba didn't want to leave him alone again, just in case, it was as good a way as any to spend the afternoon. It gave them time to think.

After about half an hour there was a knock, and Fiyero called a polite warning through the door just a second or two before he opened it.

"Got you something," he said to Oscar. "Hi, Elphaba. How'd things go with Chief Tiger Claw?" Walking up to the old man who had spent a solid ten minutes vomiting up everything in his system that morning, he handed over an apple and a bowl of porridge – plain, uncomplicated foods would go easy on his stomach.

"Nowhere," Elphaba replied with a sigh, turning a little in her chair. "They refuse to negotiate with anyone but the Wizard. I should probably get back out there soon and find some excuse to postpone until tomorrow."

Fiyero waved her down, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her in the chair. "I'll take care of it," he said. "I promised Glinda I'd take over with the day's petitioners anyway – there's about thirty of them lined up and she's got a date tonight. Besides, I'm a better liar than you are."

Dryly, she replied, "I'm not sure whether to thank you for that or write to your mother."

Oscar chuckled at them both. "Thank you, Fiyero," he said. "I trust we're still on for a game of Mobra-ka tonight?"

"Only if you're desperate to lose all your money again," he replied, straight-faced. Then he leaned down over Elphaba to briefly kiss her before straightening and backing off towards the door. "I'll be here at eight."

Elphaba touched her mouth self-consciously – she was still shy of making any sort of display in public – and nodded goodbye. Oscar watched him go with a fond smile that soon turned thoughtful, and after the door shut, he looked back at his daughter. "I'm very glad you found him."

She shook her head, sitting back in the chair and still at ease, though marginally less so than before. "He found me. Or, if you want to be technical, Glinda found us both."

"You know what I meant," Oscar chided lightly, cutting the apple with a small knife. "I'm glad you found each other. He's good for you – brings out your best side." A trace of sadness crossed his face again, and despite himself he added, "It's good to know he'll be there for you after I'm gone."

"Please don't talk about dying," said Elphaba. "You came very close today."

"Call it 'retirement' then. Really, have any of us have given a moment's thought to what will happen to Oz when I'm gone? Something bad could happen to me tomorrow and you'd need to have something to tell the press. I wouldn't be surprised if most people expect me to live forever, and we both know I won't."

She sighed, resigned to discussing the subject, and sat back as he bit a piece of his apple. "I guess I vaguely assumed you'd leave behind some sort of aristocratic government. Maybe spread power a bit more evenly between the four corners of Oz, or put together a council like the Vinkun tribes have."

"Well, that's always possible," he agreed, "but to be honest, I was thinking more of leaving the autocracy as it is and making you my legal heir." When her head snapped up with fierce reproach in her eyes, he held up his hands and added, "You're the only person I really trust to do what's best for our country, and besides, you come from noble roots. With your mother's blood and my blessing, you could be the next queen of Oz."

"I don't _want_ that," she said flatly. "I don't want that and I won't accept it. Thank you," she added belatedly, "but please don't ever bring it up again."

He arranged his expression to look surprised, but to be honest, he'd expected as much. "All right," he said lightly, scooping up a large bite of porridge, "no 'Queen Elphaba' then." Suddenly he laughed and muttered, "Lord, how far we've come."

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea to ask, decided it probably wasn't, then did so anyway. "What do you mean?"

"Sorry, it's just..." He hesitated, looking at her, then pointed sideways at a nearby shelf, at one of the few posed brownish photographs in the room. "See that? Those are my parents."

There was no need to add "_your grandparents_" – she already knew.

Elphaba nodded and stood up to reach for it, briefly looking it over before handing it to him. The couple standing stiffly in the frame had generic features, nothing that looked distinctly like Oscar, and stood in front of an equally plain building that was too old and shabby for the clean, pressed clothes they were wearing for the occasion. "What about them?" she asked, sitting down again.

It took a moment for him to answer, distracted by whatever memories that image evoked, but when he did it was with a trace of shame. "We, er... we weren't very well off. Dirt poor, to be honest. It just struck me how absurd it is that you and I are practically royalty while they struggled to pay the mortgage on our farm." He shook his head, a smile dawning. "I sometimes imagine what it would be like to show them Oz, or introduce them to you, but if I told my father that you were the queen of anything, he would have either boxed my ears or fainted dead away." He chuckled. "Would've been quite a sight."

Though she had no intention of ever testing the theory, Elphaba was curious enough to ask, "You really think that would happen?"

"Well, we'll never know; they're both dead."

Oh. She hadn't considered that. "I'm sorry," she said, but he was shaking his head, taking another bite.

"Don't be. It was a long time ago." He propped the picture up on his bedside cabinet and gazed at it for a moment. "You would have liked them," he decided. "My father especially – he was always trying to fix things, no matter if he had a chance or not. He wasn't a world-changer like you are, but I can't remember a single night at the dinner table that he didn't spend telling us all about his brilliant new schemes about how we could make a fortune if only we would sell our corn _here_ or buy chickens _there_." Oscar chuckled. "None of them ever worked."

Elphaba smiled back, finding this oddly interesting. "And your mother?"

"Always said she thought they were worth a try but was too busy keeping the farm running to actually do so." He hesitated, glancing at her cautiously before adding, "She, ah... she died when I was twelve. I don't remember her much. Actually, most of what I really know was told to me by my father or Aunt Jane, but they're odd sorts of things."

Her head tilted sideways. "What sorts of things?"

Oscar looked at the stiff picture again. "You wouldn't believe it, but when she was young, Mother used to climb out her window to sneak off and go dancing." Elphaba's eyebrows raised. "Yes, really. Actually, there was this one time–" he paused to laugh, shaking his head. "I wasn't even there, but... You know the kind of stories that families tell over and over, until you feel like you know them?"

She didn't, but nodded anyway.

"Well, there was this one time when she and Aunt Jane were trying to sneak back in after a dance. It was before dawn, so completely dark – and, you have to remember, they were in their best Sunday dresses – and apparently Mother mistook the step by one of the pig pens for the one under her window." He grinned. "Guess what happened?"

"Pig pen?" repeated Elphaba, eyes bright with mirth. "She fell in?"

"Right into the biggest puddle of mud you have _ever_ seen," Oscar declared with a flourish. "She got a nickname for that, too – Muddy Mandy. Her name was Amanda," he added, to clarify. "Anyway, her father – my grandfather – heard all the squealing and came out with a lantern to investigate."

It was only too easy to imagine. "He was furious?"

"He laughed his _head_ off."

* * *

It was almost six o'clock before they ran out of amusing anecdotes about the Diggs family, and by then Oscar was looking better; the food had given him back some colour, though he still elected – encouraged by the glare of his daughter – to stay in bed and rest properly until morning.

Saying goodnight, Elphaba picked up the various photographs and returned each one to its rightful place on the shelves. As she put down the last, looking at the large group of people she could now name as uncles and great-aunts and second cousins and grandparents, she smiled.

Maybe they still had family after all.

* * *

Author's Notes: I realise this explanation makes it much harder for Elphaba to have enchanted the slippers in canon. My justification is that in the years she's on the run, she doesn't have time to learn the linguistic details of the Grimmerie's language and so ends up relying much more heavily on instinct, which leads her to find the right words on a page without having to think about it, whereas in my AU she pays less attention to those instincts and so has to work it out the hard (but much more reliable) way.


	18. Questions

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen  
_Questions_

Year 24  
Winter

"I blame Glinda," Elphaba announced wearily, her nose completely stuffed up and her voice clogged because of it. "This is– _a_... _aCHOO!_"

Fiyero picked up a fresh handkerchief from the stack – the third in an hour.

"Dank you," she said, taking the small cloth. She blew her nose, sighed and flopped back into the couch cushions, huddling in her blanket and staring at the fireplace. "This is all her fault."

"Technically it's the architect's fault," replied Fiyero, reaching to hug an arm around her shoulders. "Or whoever's responsible for keeping the palace gutters in good condition. You could probably write a whole new health and safety edict about the use of sub-standard materials," he said with a grin, nudging her, but Elphaba replied flatly:

"Oh, believe me – I _will_."

No, wait, there was a smile in there, a little spark of amusement in her eyes. A good laugh would probably be a welcome distraction, and in his life, Fiyero had made an art out of amusing people.

Settling back on the couch, he propped his socked feet up on the table and said, "Well, you could blame our resident Lord Shyness. He's the one that hit you, after all." With a cheeky but still rather straight face he added, "A swift execution, I think – string him up by his toes and hang him out of the north tower. _Then_ shoot him."

Elphaba did chuckle, but shook her head and feebly whacked him. "Stop that. I like Tevien. Besides, he was so horrified and _sorry_ about all this that I can't blame him anymore. Do you know he tried to call in another two doctors today just to make sure the first one wasn't wrong?"

"I think that's because Glinda was yelling at him. She had this awful look on her face when you fell – and you've got to admit, you could've been really been hurt. She turned completely white."

"Explains why she's been mothering me ever since," muttered Elphaba, sighing. "Hmph. Guess I can't blame her either, then."

Fiyero chuckled and kissed her still-fever-warm forehead. "Probably not."

What had happened was this: Winter had come, and with it, the heavy snowstorms that regularly decorated the Emerald City with a thick, beautiful layer of white fluff. However, this year so much had fallen that people were having real trouble getting the city's outer gates open and closed every day, not to mention hauling their goods along the various roads that lead to each far-flung province. In fact, the storms got so bad that in the week leading up to Lurlinemas some people began to seriously worry that they didn't have enough food stored to last until the weather broke. This was, of course, an unacceptable risk, and would never have happened in the first place if both Munchkinland and Upper Quadling Country hadn't lost a great deal of their harvest to blight several weeks earlier.

So, instead of enjoying the Lurlinemas celebrations, Elphaba, Fiyero, Glinda and Oscar had spent the entire holiday rationing out what supplies they had and magically clearing snow from mile after mile of road. They then assigned soldiers with snowploughs to keep it that way and arranged for shelters along each path so the travellers could stay warm at night. It took hours of talking, wheedling and outright threats to convince the merchants and farmers to make their trips to the city and to the villages that had lost so much of their own stock in autumn.

All in all, it was a miserable few weeks, so when it was all over and everyone's meals assured, Glinda stood up in the middle of breakfast and announced that they, the Leaders of Oz, were going to take the day off to have some _fun_.

By "fun", however, she meant indulging her inner four-year-old and playing with snow up on the palace roof.

But it wasn't that easy. Elphaba didn't want to play, Oscar didn't feel well enough to play, Lord Tevien was too shy to play, and Fiyero was more interested in snowball warfare than anything as tame as "play". Nevertheless, they played – or, shall we say, played _along_ – and after a while Glinda's girlish, bubbly enthusiasm began to rub off on them. As usual.

The open space they called a courtyard was fairly small, but also entirely shielded from view by the tall, windowless spires that encircled and rose up above it. As the floor below was unoccupied and the only access was through a private corridor, they were able to have their fun without any worries about the press or their dignity.

Tevien Duvot, Glinda's shy but ultimately persistent suitor, had joined them. This wasn't the first time he'd been invited to spend time with Glinda's Very Important friends, but it was the first time he'd been allowed to see Oz's Press Secretary, its Grand Vizier, the Vinkun Prince and _the Wizard himself_ in quite such an informal setting. Like the rest of Oz, he was still under the impression that the Wonderful Wizard was only taking the form of a frail old human man to avoid blinding the eyes of his mortal staff, but Glinda was considering changing that, telling him the truth, and had Oscar's blessing to do so. After a year and a half of tentative courtship, she was slowly admitting that she just might be serious about him, which was the only reason the quiet young lord was being allowed little glimpses into their until-now isolated world of secrets.

Fiyero, typically, was all too pleased with himself for getting them together in the first place, even though he'd actually had precious little to do with it. Still, it was good to see Glinda so happy.

As a Gillikin native – and, therefore, the only person besides Glinda who had played with snow as a child – Tevien had been drafted for the day's outing in order to teach the southerners how to make a proper snowman. Irony was, he spent so much time and effort trying to answer Elphaba's questions and help get her coal-eyed imitation just right that his own fell apart completely. Watching its head fall off and its too-loosely-packed body crumble, he'd looked so forlorn and _embarrassed_ that Fiyero (who, to be honest, had been itching for an excuse all morning) threw a snowball smack into the side of the young lord's head.

Soon after, war broke out.

Because Oscar was feeling tired again – as he had been fairly often since his near-poisoning several months ago – he sat it out on a small bench on the side of the courtyard, but all the healthy young people were involved. As Fiyero had struck the first blow against Tevien, he was immediately branded the villain, and Glinda hurled a slushy wet missile right back at her former boyfriend in defence of her new one. Elphaba was therefore obliged to side with the Fiend That Was Fiyero both out of lover's loyalty and sheer fairness of numbers, which she did admirably, dragging them behind one of the skinny decorative trees and building up piles of ammunition for him to hurl with a hunter's accuracy at Glinda and Tevien. Those two were more used to such fights but hadn't thought of finding shelter, and scrambled to build a fort as fast as possible. When that failed, they took on guerrilla tactics, running circles around Elphaba and Fiyero and trying to pelt them with whatever handfuls they could scoop up along the way. All the while, Oscar was cheerfully calling out warnings or advice to whomever he felt like being nice to at the time, and waved his new cane in mock-threat at all those who tried to target _him_. Several times, someone slipped or fell, and within minutes two of the snowmen had been trampled, but it had been _ages_ since any of them had been free to have this kind of exhilarating fun, and they were all laughing merrily.

Elphaba had just dashed out from her shelter and heading for a large pile of snow in one corner of the courtyard when Tevien, seeing the chance to get his first clean hit on the Grand Vizier, had hurled a rather large snowball at her, and though he'd aimed for her chest, it hit her square in the face.

Jerking back in surprise, she had flailed, slipped on one of the treacherous hidden patches of ice and fallen backwards, slamming her head into a low-hanging drainpipe. The old clay shattered and icy water poured out of what they later found to be a very clogged-up gutter, soaking her hair as she landed on the hard stone ground.

In retrospect, the scene that followed was almost funny. Yes, it hurt, and yes, it was _very_ cold, but the panic that ensued as everyone rushed at her, asking hurried questions and treating her like a small child was ridiculous. "You're acting like it could have killed me," she'd muttered.

It couldn't have, of course, but that wasn't to say she appreciated the painful bump on her head or the small icicles forming in her hair. Oscar, of course, had panicked and scrambled across the courtyard faster than was really good for him, Glinda had shed two layers of scarves to wrap around her before they even got inside, and Fiyero had picked her up, meaning to carry her in before she fought him off, but only Tevien had done the really sensible thing and gone for help. On later reflection she decided that he'd been fleeing her as much as helping, given that after rushing to assemble the staff, sending for dry clothes, calling a doctor and ordering a maid to fill a hot bath, he did nothing but apologise, wide-eyed and convinced that he was going to be responsible for her death.

"Don't be stupid," she'd grumbled, accepting a blanket and using it to towel off her hair; "I'll be fine. It's not your fault you have such good aim. And I don't need a _bath_," she'd growled at the maid that tried to lead her to the washroom in her suite. "I'll just get another coat and we can go back outside."

"Elphaba, your head is bleeding," Fiyero pointed out, not realising that those words would send Oscar into another panic until it was too late, and he didn't calm down until after the palace doctor had examined her (prodding far more harshly than necessary, she thought) and proclaimed it to be just a minor cut that would be fine given time to close. Regardless, Tevien _still_ kept apologising, trying so hard to help that he got in everyone's way, then backing off and gibbering nervous pleas for forgiveness when Glinda, irritated, snapped at him. This was hilarious in itself, given that he was taller even than the already-tall Fiyero and completely dwarfed her.

Fed up with the ruination of what had been such a wonderful day, Elphaba had stalked off to change and returned only a few minutes later, determined to resume their fun. It worked well enough, and by dinner they were making jokes about it all, but there had been an icy wind and she hadn't bothered to dry her hair properly, so it was no surprise that the next morning she was sniffling, and by nightfall was the victim of a full-blown cold.

That was how she came to be huddled in blankets in the parlour of her suite, unable to sleep, coughing and sneezing on every visitor, blowing her nose so often that her green skin was rubbed raw, and alternately boiling hot or so cold that she scooted closer to the roaring fireplace than it was strictly safe to be.

"Mmrph," she grumbled eloquently, dropping her head onto a cushion. "I hate being sick."

"Everyone hates being sick," Fiyero replied with a chuckle, tugging her closer until she leaned against him, head tucked into his shoulder and knees drawn up to her chest.

"Well, I hate it more than everyone," she replied, dabbing her runny nose again. "I feel awful. I feel drippy and sore and swollen and like the ugliest thing in Oz."

He leaned over, twisting to look at her face, which she obligingly turned towards him, and considered for a moment. "You're disgusting," he announced, and swooped down to kiss her. She pulled away almost immediately.

"Ack, don't do that!" she said, swatting him. "I've got a sore throat too, remember? I don't want you getting sick."

He shrugged, sitting back but still threading his fingers through her hair. "If I catch it, I catch it. There's probably no avoiding it now anyway, so why shouldn't we have fun?"

The echo of Glinda's favourite word made her smile. "I don't know if I'm– _aCHOO_!" She groaned and wiped her nose. "Don't know if I'm feeling up to that sort of fun," she finished. Fiyero grinned wickedly.

"You sure?"

She hesitated, tempted, but the headache that had been pounding since her first hour of hard coughing made itself known, and she shook her head, burying her face in his shirt. "Another time, Fiyero," she apologised, shoving off the blanket as she started to feel warm again. "It's not like we're going anywhere."

An odd expression crossed his face, though she wasn't able to see it. "No, I guess we're not," he said, a similarly odd twang in his voice. "Plenty of time, right?"

"Not if the palace gutters get their way," she replied sourly, reaching up to rub the bruised and swollen point of impact under her hair. "It's really ridiculous. This is the _Emerald Palace_. Ozmas have been living here since forever. You'd _think_ that they'd put enough time and money into making sure things were safe. And yes, I know Oscar's gone and thrown a fit at the staff, but someone should've been checking anyway. It's not like they're too busy; we make sure no one's overworked. It's just not a job that anyone covers. And who builds drainpipes out of clay anymore, anyway? Those gutters must have been ancient, or else they were built out of something cheap like you said, but I just don't–"

"Marry me."

Caught off-guard, Elphaba blinked, staring at Fiyero as though he'd suddenly turned into her stuffed toy scarecrow. "What?"

He shrugged. "I was just thinking, I love this. I mean, you're sitting there rambling about some... thing–" he waved it off "–and we're curled up here and it's so _comfortable_ and I'm _happy_. I'm really happy, and I don't want it to end. _So_," he said, leaning his chin in his hand and grinning cheekily, "Elphaba Thropp, Grand Vizier and Third Thropp Descending and Lots of Other Things That Really Aren't Important Right Now – will you marry me?"

She continued to stare, an unreadable expression in her eyes, searching his face over and over and over...

And then she ran.

* * *

In the apartment next door, Glinda woke suddenly as a muffled banging noise echoed through her rooms. It paused for a moment, then started up again, and to her sleep-addled brain it sounded like a knock, but who would be knocking at one o'clock in the morning?

Knotting the sash of her dressing gown, Glinda walked out into her immaculate parlour, feeling her way in the dark until she reached her main door. There was no one out there, but the sound was clearer now; it was coming from inside Elphaba's suite.

Glinda let herself in. The sitting room was still brightly lit by the fire, showing the mess of handkerchiefs and cough medicine that had been left on the coffee table and blankets that had been tossed across the couch. Beyond them was the door to Elphaba's bedroom, and it was there that Fiyero stood, half-dressed and hammering on the wood. "Elphaba, let me in!" he was shouting. "What _is_ it? What's wrong?"

There was no answer, and he pulled the handle, twisting at the unforgiving metal before giving up and angrily smacking the door.

"Fiyero?"

He spun around, startled, and then his shoulders slumped. "Sorry – I woke you, didn't I?"

Though it was a lie, she shook her head. In truth, he could have woken half the palace with that racket, but this floor of the south wing was reserved for their apartments, and probably the only reason Glinda had heard at all was because the walls between rooms were fairly thin, and she'd left her own internal door open. "Are you okay?" she asked, puzzled and walking over to him. "What happened?"

Fiyero just shook his head, hands lifting as he shrugged, looking completely baffled. "I asked her to marry me."

Feeling her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, Glinda blinked, then turned to look at the doorknob. Her brow furrowed. "And she locked you out?"

"More like locked herself _in_," he corrected, rubbing his eyes. "And no, she didn't answer me first," he added moodily.

"What is _wrong_ with that girl?" Glinda muttered. She sighed, shaking her head, and reached out to touch his arm. "Do you want me to talk to her?"

The look on his face was half reluctant, half worshipfully grateful. He nodded, "Thank you."

She turned to examine the lock. The knob wouldn't turn at all, which meant it was probably enchanted, but Glinda used locking spells often enough herself to have little trouble undoing Elphaba's version. A minute later she was inside, leaving Fiyero to make himself comfortable in the parlour while she faced his prospective fiancée, her certifiably insane best friend.

Really, the things she did for them. She deserved a medal or something.

Said best friend was pacing the length of carpet between window and washroom, blanket thrown off in defiance of her cold and obviously not listening to anything other than the thoughts inside her own head. She was muttering to herself, hands alternately fisting or flexing and she randomly kicked whatever furniture happened to get in her way, and looked as though she might have just stopped crying, but the symptoms of her cold made it impossible to tell.

Glinda put her hands on her hips, standing right in the light of the main lamp, making sure to be noticed immediately. "Elphie," she said firmly, "what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

A range of responses crossed Elphaba's face and very nearly formed on her lips, but after a few seconds she tightened them, replied, "Pacing," and continued to do so.

"Elphie, I don't understand you. He just _proposed_ – doesn't that make you happy?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

She didn't seem to mean that literally, so Glinda let out a breath and said, "Come and sit down, Elphie. We need to talk."

She was ignored. After a few moments of ladylike patience, she folded her arms and moved to block her friend's route, backing her into the corner between bedpost and wall. Elphaba shoved her aside and walked on anyway. "Elphie!" she snapped.

"The answer is _no_, Glinda," she replied, still pacing. "That's my choice. It's none of your business what I do with my life."

"Of course it is," said Glinda, "don't you know you're making a terrible mistake?" There was no response, so she paused and sat down on the bed, taking a different tactic and trying to put herself in Elphaba's shoes. "Are you being all insecure and self-doubtiful again? Do you think he doesn't love you or something?"

"Of course not. I know he loves me." There was no trace of a lie in her voice, though it was followed by a few short, rough coughs – probably real ones.

Glinda shook her head, baffled. "Then what could possibly be wrong? Why didn't you say yes?"

"Marriage is about more than love, Glinda," her friend replied, snatching up the spare blanket and finally slowing down, leaning on a wall to look out her window at the bright white moon. Her voice was starting to sound clogged again, and now that she was in the light, Glinda could see how worn out she really was.

"Um... _no_. That's _all_ marriage is about. You're in love, you get married. That's the _point_."

"In fairytales, maybe," said Elphaba, whirling toward her. "But life isn't a fairytale and we both know it. If it was, you and he would have been together since Shiz and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

A little quieter now, more serious, Glinda asked, "Is that what this is about? Me and Fiyero?"

"No," Elphaba replied in the same tone. "No, not really."

There was a pause then, and after a moment – because they both knew it was going to happen eventually – Elphaba sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to Glinda and grudgingly accepting that they were going to talk.

Glinda waited patiently.

"Do you know how many couples in Oz get divorced every day?" Elphaba asked after a moment, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Not just the ones who petition us to settle their cases – do you know how many actual marriages _end_ every day?"

Shaking her head, Glinda said, "No. But I think you do, don't you?"

"The statistics are in my annual reports from the provinces. Hundreds of people, every year, go back on their vows and walk away from each other, and I... don't know if I could go through that."

"You won't, Elphie," said her friend earnestly, touching her shoulder and trying to soothe her. "He loves you. It's not going to happen."

"No one gets married expecting to divorce, Glinda," she replied, pulling away from the white hand and sniffling, irritably rubbing her nose with a handkerchief. "I'm sure all those couples were in love once, too. Even my parents might have been in love when they married, but look what happened there. I wouldn't be here if they'd been happy together."

Glinda shook her head, gold hair glinting in the firelight. "Fiyero is _not_ going to cheat on you, Elphie," she promised. "He's too good for that."

"I know," she replied, and her voice – though blocked up – was quiet. "I know he wouldn't deliberately hurt– _a... aCHoo!_ Hurt me. Urg," she grumbled, rubbing her head, which had begun to throb from the force of the sneezing. "This is horrible. I want to go to sleep."

"No, I think you want to keep talking," said Glinda. "I think you want me to talk you out of turning him down."

Elphaba glanced down for a moment, green fingers absently tugging on a loose thread in the blanket, or maybe her skirt. It didn't matter, really, just something to focus on. She became very quiet, shivering a little, then said, "I don't think you can."

Her answer was a friendly wink. "_Try_ me, Elphie. You know he loves you, and you're not afraid he'll cheat. What's next on my list of doubts to destroy?"

A small smile escaped her, and Elphaba turned, immeasurably grateful to have this woman as her friend. Nonetheless, she didn't sound hopeful when she replied, "It's not something you can fix or talk away. How do you know that if we do... if we... How can I _know_ it's going to last forever?" she asked, voice wavering. "I know he means it now, but what if that changes? What if someday he falls _out_ of love with me?"

Glinda hesitated. "What makes you think that'll happen?" she asked, stalling by taking the easy path. Elphaba was too quick for her.

"Because if it can happen to hundreds of other Ozians then it can happen to us. 'Happily Ever After' doesn't mean anything when people keep growing and changing. Getting married doesn't freeze anyone exactly as they are for the rest of their lives."

"It doesn't mean everything _will_ change, either."

"But it might, Glinda, and I don't think I could handle tha–" She coughed again, several times, doubling over as her muscles clenched and air was forced out of her lungs. Regaining breath, she slumped down, miserable.

Her friend reached out to take the nearest green hand and squeezed. "Elphie, let me ask you something: Do you honestly think that _you_ might fall out of love with _him_?"

There was a pause, and Elphaba's lips pressed together tightly. She looked away before she said, "It's not as though _I've_ fallen in love a hundred times before."

"Oh," said Glinda, her voice dropping low like the thud of the proverbial penny. "You think he's flighty."

"He had a lot of relationships before you or I," replied Elphaba in a distant tone. "Someday he could lose interest, or fall for someone else, but I doubt there's anyone else in Oz who'll want _me_."

"He's grown up since then, you know. And stop being so self-pitifying; you wouldn't stay with him just to have somebody, Elphie – I know you better than that."

"That's not the issue. The issue is whether or not getting married would have political ramifications for the Vinkus or Munchkinland or either of our jobs here, and how bad the effects would be if it ended."

"You refuse to see _anything_ romantically," said Glinda, almost pouting. "It's infuriating." Then, realising that her friend's phrasing had made it an undecided issue instead of a straightforward 'no', she smiled a little, but said nothing.

Elphaba deflated a bit. "Why does he want to change things, anyway?" she said, more to herself than Glinda. "Everything was fine the way it _was_."

"You'll have to ask him that," Glinda replied quietly, but with a firm, chiding undertone. "What _I_ think is that you're being unfair. You didn't see his face out there; he's hurt, Elphie, and confused and upset. He proposed to you – obviously that means something to him – and you rejected it. Now you're acting as if the only heart on the line here is _yours_."

Her response was a flash of anger. "Who's side are you on, Glinda? I thought you were trying to help me."

"In case you've forgotten, Elphie, I have two best friends, and right now only one of them needs my help."

Jaw tight, Elphaba folded her arms and sat still, looking away – at least, until she sneezed again. Then she resumed her pose as if nothing had happened. Glinda sighed, reaching out to touch her arm.

"I know it's scary–"

"I'm not _scared_."

"Oh, don't lie to me," she scoffed. "You're terrified. I can _see_ it. Anything that's not totally under your control scares you and you never admit it. You can't _live_ like that, Elphie. Maybe it won't last forever if you marry him – I don't know. I just know that you have to take a chance or else you'll drive him away completely."

_That_ hit home. Elphaba closed her eyes, dragging one hand over her face. "Now you're going to tell me I'll always regret it if I don't accept, right?"

"I don't have to; you already know that," she replied. "No, Elphie, I'm going to tell you that I don't know what's going to happen between you tomorrow, but you do have the chance to be happy _now_. Even if it does end someday, it's not going to change how good things are today."

"But if it does end–"

"Of course it will hurt. That's how you know you love him. But you also know that he cares enough to do the right thing; he wouldn't stay and lie to you if he somehow stopped loving you."

She shook her head, shivering again and tightening the blanket. "I don't know what he'd do."

Glinda's eyes narrowed. "Don't you?" she said sharply. "I'll remind you then, Elphie; when he realised he loved you more, he _left me_."

Elphaba winced – that was a stupid thing to have forgotten. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Show it by listening to me. When we broke up he was kind and respectful and didn't go near you for _months_ just to make sure I'd be okay, and we weren't even close to being married. It hurt. I got over it. It wasn't the end of my life and it won't be the end of yours. You're strong, Elphie. You're not going to fall apart."

"Won't I?" she said quietly. "Glinda, I've _never_ been this vulnerable before."

Glinda softened, reaching out to hug her friend, and pushed some floppy bits of black hair out of their way. "The only way this is going to go wrong is if you don't trust him. Go talk to him, Elphie. He needs to hear you to say that you love him. Everything will be fine."

Softer yet, in a breathy whisper, she asked, "How can you _know_?"

Glinda gave her a smile, and silk-clad arms tightened around her. "Instinct. I just _do_, Elphie. Trust me. Logic isn't going to help you now – in fact, I think it's hurting you." She waved a hand towards the door, unlocking it again and magically pulling it open. Elphaba tensed.

"Glinda, I can't– Not yet–"

Too late. Fiyero, looking mussed and tired, stood in the doorway. He'd obviously been waiting right outside. He stepped in slowly, watching as Elphaba stood up stiffly, nervous, arms wrapped tightly around her chest. "I'm sorry," she told him.

He was still a moment, eyes sliding from her to Glinda and back again, tension in his stance. "Is that a 'no'?" he asked.

"...that I ran off," she added, looking down. "I panicked."

Another pause. "So that's a 'yes'?"

"No. I mean... I don't know," she stammered, biting her lip and glancing at the window. "It's just... Why did you even ask? Why would you _want_ to get _married_?"

"Be _nice_, Elphie," Glinda hissed, but Fiyero just shrugged.

"Why not?"

"I can think of about a thousand reasons why not!"

"And they're all about being green, right?"

A pause. Elphaba rubbed her elbow. "No, actually – not that that isn't a very good reason."

He snorted, shaking his head and sitting on a nearby chair, looking sad and tired. Elphaba started to pace again, the blanket still wrapped protectively around her. She couldn't quite look at him. "Why did you ask?" she repeated. "Why now? What's wrong with the way things are?"

Fiyero sighed. "Look, I'm sorry if it came out wrong, but I just never _thought_ about the future until now. I don't know why – something you said sparked it, can't remember what. But now that I do think about it, I know what I want, and for some reason I thought you'd want the same." He shrugged. "Guess I was wrong."

And oh, ouch, there it was – the hurt. Glinda was right; she'd cut him very deeply. Elphaba walked towards him, but couldn't quite make the last few steps, nor pull her arms away from their tight, protective places clamped to her ribs and elbows. "I never said I didn't," she told him, trying to put her honest feelings into her tone. "I just don't understand why you want things to change. What we have now is perfect."

"No, what we have now is temporary," he replied, looking up at her. "Being together like this is like saying, 'I like you, so let's try it and see how it works'. Getting married is saying, 'I love you and this _does_ work, and I really want it to last'."

"But there's so much _more_ to it than that," cried Elphaba, backing away again. Glinda, now standing, didn't let her go far. "It's so _formal_, Fiyero – there are so many promises involved that we can't or wouldn't keep!"

"Like _what_? What would be so hard to for us to deal with?"

"Publicity," she shot back. "Everyone would know. Everyone. We'd have to deal with the press and our families and it could change the way we're seen and our _jobs_–"

"So you won't marry me because it's inconvenient," he said flatly, and his deliberate choice of words threw her.

"No!" she protested. "No, but... but you know how they like to make assumptions about us. They'll look up our pasts and slander Glinda, and–"

"Glinda," he told her, "deserves better than to be used as your excuse."

Cut off cold, Elphaba closed her mouth, looking apologetically at their friend, who just nodded and said, "Thank you, Fiyero."

"I didn't mean it like that," stammered Elphaba, still hiding in her blanket and standing stiffly beside a bedpost. "But there's also..." She hesitated. "Well, you were... before... when you..."

Glinda smoothly took over. "She means she's worried because you had a lot of girlfriends before either of us."

Fiyero just nodded, sighing. "I wondered when that would come up," he said. Elphaba turned to him, startled, and he almost smiled at her expression. "Yeah, I know that bothers you. You avoid the subject so obviously that it's hard not to. What do you want me to say? That I never cared about any of them?"

She shook her head, shrugging. "I don't know. Maybe... that none of them were ever that serious, or that you knew beforehand that they wouldn't work, or... something."

"I can't. Not unless you want me to lie."

Her eyes squeezed shut.

"Look, they weren't _all_ serious. Some were–" he glanced at Glinda, who smiled "–and you always wonder if this time it's going to work out, but that's... They were _different_, all right? That's all I can tell you," he said, standing and taking hold of her upper arms, making her look at him. "You're special. You're fanatic and crazy and ridiculous and right now I want to scream at you, but I love you and I _want_ this to_ last_. I want it to be real, and I'm tired of hiding – we've been together almost four years. I want to tell everyone that you're _mine_, and vice-versa."

"For as long as you _are_ mine," she replied, voice soft and looking steadily at his shirt buttons. She shook her head, glancing up. "But what if things go wrong? What if we fight? What if something happens that we can't fix?"

"What would we possibly fight over?"

"Children," she replied. "I don't want them – and don't pretend that you don't," she warned as he opened his mouth to reply. "I've seen you with your sister, and Dian, and those kids at the parade and the orphanage last year. You _love_ children. I don't, and don't ever want one."

Rather comically, she punctuated this by lifting her head and tilting her chin up, staring him in the eye as though challenging him to fight. Fiyero replied, "Okay."

Startled, she lost her poise. "Sorry?"

"I said 'okay', Elphaba," he repeated. "I can live with that. Kind of expected it, to be honest. And just because I like them doesn't mean I want my own. That kind of responsibility scares the hell out of me."

He could have been lying – it was possible, he wasn't quite meeting her eyes – but there was no chance to find out. Sliding his hands down her arms, gently now, he pried her fingers from their death-grip on her elbows and held both her hands between his own. "Elphaba," he said, "just answer me two questions, all right?"

She nodded slowly, feeling her heart beat way too fast, out of control, and it had nothing to do with her fever. His eyes fixed on hers.

"_Do_ you love me?"

That was easy. One tight nod. "Yes."

"Do you _want_ this to last?"

She floundered, drawing back and saying, "But what if–?"

"Yes or no, Elphaba," he instructed, holding onto her. After a moment, he added, "Please."

She swallowed hard and looked down, seeing the lamplight flicker on the wooden floor beneath their feet, the warm rug they'd bought a month ago, and the edge of her bedpost, its dark wood glowing in the light. Glinda was standing very still behind her, casting a shadow on the pillows, and Fiyero's hands were warm, though the very tips of his fingers were cooler. His left sock had a little hole in, and through it she could see one toe, but he was still looking at her intently, entirely unaware of it. She couldn't lie, even if she'd wanted to.

"Yes, I do," she said. " I just think–"

He covered her lips with his fingers, smiling again. "Stop thinking for a minute, okay? _Will you marry me_?"

She closed her eyes. _Stop thinking_, she told herself, fighting to breathe steadily. _Stop thinking. Just __stop__. Answer. __Trust__ him._

"...Yes," she finally said, looking down and away. "Yes, I... guess so."

There was a brief silence.

"Well, _that_ was enthusiastic," said Glinda, frowning. "Really, Elphie, you're terrible. No romanticness at all."

Fiyero laughed, breaking the tension, and Elphaba looked down, feeling her cheeks heat up. He tugged on her hands, pulling her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," he whispered.

She returned the hug, still more tense than not, and said, "I love you," because she knew he needed to hear it.

"Oh, Elphie, can't you be more excited than _that_?" demanded Glinda, unable to keep from grinning as she skipped around to their side. "You'll be a _bride_! You're getting _married_! Doesn't that make you the least bit happy?"

It was starting to spark a funny sort of glee in her belly, yes, but it didn't show very well on her face. She shrugged awkwardly and looked up at Fiyero, hoping he understood. "I never really thought much about weddings before."

"Bah – every little girl dreams of being a bride at _some_ point," Glinda scoffed. "Everyone wants this. Look, Fiyero's happy."

Considering the huge grin that wouldn't leave his face, that was hardly arguable. Elphaba smiled a little wider, looking up at him–

Then sneezed _again_, the force of it jerking her head down and very nearly smacking his chin as she rushed to block her nose with her sleeve. "Urgh!" she scowled, "I _hate_ being sick!" But there was no real anger in her exclamation, and after a moment her lips turned up, the humour of their situation dawning. She grinned as they laughed at her. "Sorry."

Fiyero made a show of wrinkling his nose and theatrically dusting off the front of his shirt before snaking his arms around her again and tugging at the small of her back. "I forgive you," he said magnanimously. "But only because you said yes."

Then he kissed her, quite thoroughly, fingers trailing along the skin of her back. She might not be too thrilled about their wedding right now, but he had his own way of getting her excited about it.

"I really don't need to see that," Glinda cheerfully informed them as Fiyero moved on to her neck, and Elphaba blushed furiously, trying not to let her eyes fall closed out of habit. She pulled away, though not far, lacing their fingers and looking up at him.

"Fiyero, if – if we're going to do this, then I want to do it right," she said hesitantly. "And that means asking my father first."

He made a face at that (mostly at the word "if", which was now evil and had to be expunged from the Ozian vocabulary by any means necessary), but shrugged, untroubled, and asked, "Which father?"

It was a reasonable question. She hesitated. "...Both. Both of them. Frex and Oscar. And Nessa – I want to tell her about this myself. She shouldn't hear it from anyone else." Then Elphaba shook her head, feeling a bit lost as the enormity of their decision started to set in. "When will this even happen?"

Fiyero shrugged again, not really caring about the details, but Glinda, who loved them, lit up like a small sun. "You can have a spring wedding!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands together. "Spring, with all the blossoms and flowers – or summer! Summer's perfect, if you can wait that long. _Ooo!_ It could be right between your birthdays, so – er – five months from now. I'm planning it for you, right? _Please_ can I plan your wedding, please please please please _please_?"

Fiyero chuckled and took one arm from Elphaba's waist to reach out to her. "Of course," he said. "Who else?"

She _squealed_, bypassing his offered hand to leap at them both, throwing her arms around their necks and shrieking "_THANK YOU!_" loudly enough to make their ears ring. "Oh, this'll be wonderful! I've got to start making a list!" She hopped down and began whirling around the room, looking for paper, her silk dressing gown glinting in the lamp light. "As soon you've seen Oscar tomorrow we'll go over it and go into town and look at dresses and cakes and–"

"We still have to _work_, you know," Elphaba reminded her with a smile, which may or may not have been influenced by Fiyero's happy return to kissing her neck.

"Pshaw," replied Glinda. "You're still sick, and we're all probably infected. We're taking another day off." Looking up from her scribbles, she opened her mouth to ask something – then paused and shook her head. Both her friends were too wrapped up in each other to notice a word of it. "I'm off to bed," she announced. "You two can stay and celebrate any way you want. Good_night_, Fiyero, if you can still hear me in there."

He looked up, actually a bit embarrassed, but replied with great dignity. "Goodnight, Glinda. And thank you," he added earnestly, stepping away from Elphaba to give her a very big hug. "Thank you for doing this. We owe you."

She shrugged, titling her head and smiling at him. "You're my friends," she said, and it was all the explanation they needed. Backing off towards the door, she said, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodn-_aa– aCHOO_!"

They laughed. "Goodnight to you too, Elphie," said Glinda, and she danced out through the sitting room, notes in hand. "_Sleep_ well."

The heavy wooden door closed with a _clunk_, and Elphaba winced, but the pounding headache had faded into a general feeling of her skull being stuffed with cotton, and the noise didn't actually hurt. In the newfound quiet, characteristic of their friend's absence, she turned to Fiyero and stroked his cheek.

"I love you," she said. "I'm sorry I panicked."

"I'm still mad at you," he replied lightly, though with serious eyes. "But... well, you said yes, and that's what matters." He smiled and kissed her again, properly, then added, "I love you too, you know."

She returned it in kind, eyes closed, holding him tight for much longer, and when at last she let go her breathing was shallow, blood singing in her veins. "I know."

Another kiss, another hug, and more. Their winter clothes were thick enough to keep out the cold, but that didn't last long, and with his lips tracing the outline of her ear, Elphaba could definitely say that she was getting _excited_.

She tugged on his shoulders, eyes still closed and kissing her favourite diamond tattoo as she backed them both towards her bed. He grinned, pausing to pull back and look at her. "I thought you weren't feeling up to having 'fun' tonight."

"Oh, shut up," she said, and kissed him.

* * *

Back in her own suite, Glinda shut the door and smiled softly. In the dark and silence, she wasn't quite as bouncy and giddy as before, but she was happy, for herself and for them. Of course, it would have been nice to be planning her _own_ wedding, but as she picked up a picture of herself and Tevien, opening a curtain to look at it in the moonlight, she knew that this wasn't the time. She wasn't ready, wasn't sure, and for the first time in her life, that fact alone made it all okay.

Glinda Upland went to sleep a happy woman, and the next day she had quite a laugh watching Tevien Duvot stammer adorably when Elphaba sternly informed him that it was _his_ fault she would be married by summer.

The day after that, Fiyero came down with a cold, too. He decided that it was worth it.


	19. A Tale of Two Fathers

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen  
_A Tale of Two Fathers_

Year 25  
Spring

Throughout Oz, Munchkinland was famous for three things: Its abundant, high-quality grain, the comical stature of most of its inhabitants, and its sky. An odd addition to the list, to be sure, but an understandable one. Vast and a lovely shade of blue, their sky was unique in that it was often completely and utterly cloudless. Something about the infinite, unbroken dome of colour seemed to entrance outsiders, and though of course the claim wasn't strictly _true_ – without plenty of clouds and rain the crops would never grow – there were enough days of perfect blue serenity to cement its reputation as the most beautiful sky in Oz.

It was also the reason that one could rarely fly through it unnoticed.

On this particular day in early spring, a Munchkin boy out feeding his chickens was the first to notice the balloon. As it was, at the time, little more than a green smudge on the backdrop of blue, he didn't pay much attention, but after he'd emptied his crumb-bag and filled up the water trough, he looked up to find it had drifted closer, and his eyes widened in delight.

Running back to the farmhouse and carelessly leaving two gates wide open, he shouted, "Mama! Mama! Come _see_! It's one of those fancy flying things the Wizard made!"

His mother came, as did his father and sisters, and for about half an hour they watched, chatting excitedly about the Great Oz's brilliant invention, speculating about which rich honeymooners had the privilege of a flying tour this time, and waving enthusiastically, even though the basket was too high up for them to have a hope of being seen.

Inside, Fiyero Tiggular was quietly drifting off to sleep. He was lounging contentedly on a small stack of luggage, ankles propped up on the basket's edge and had a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. Though his arms were folded pillow-like behind his head, he sprawled, somehow comfortable despite the rough wicker and cramped space. His fiancée, on the other hand, had resolved to spend most of the trip on her feet, and had a very good, nothing-to-do-with-comfort reason for doing so.

The view.

It was _spectacular_.

They were just clearing the southernmost tip of the Madeleines Mountains, and in the clear morning light, Munchkinland _shone_. Brilliant green fields and pastures spread out below them, oddly mismatched rectangles that ran crazily in whatever direction they pleased. Far off to the right was the gold ribbon of the Yellow Brick Road, and beyond that, the twinkle of water that was Munchkin River. Hanging idly in Elphaba's green hand was a map, its careful ink lines and rough depictions long since dismissed in favour of the real thing. There weren't even any ugly artificial distractions to spoil her pleasure; she could make out farmhouses and villages, yes, but they were just coloured squares, too small to compete with nature. It was times like these that one could truly appreciate the scale of the world, and how small the people in it actually were.

No pun intended, of course.

She sighed in pure, wistful appreciation, a show of happy serenity that she would normally never express. But they were alone here, and it was so rare to have privacy without four walls and a locked door that Elphaba smiled again, and laughed, just because she could.

"You really should see this, Fiyero," she said, not breaking her gaze. "It's beautiful."

He let out a muffled groan and shifted on his makeshift bed of suitcases. "We w're up b'fore dawn."

"But you couldn't see anything then!" she protested, turning to poke him. "Come on, you shouldn't miss this."

"We have another six hours to go," he replied with all the solemn dignity of a man in great need of sleep. "I'll see it later."

Shaking her head, Elphaba consulted the map and compared her hand-drawn red arrows to the ground below them. "I think we'll have to turn soon," she said aloud, a few minutes later. "We angled too far south to avoid the hills. At this rate we'll end up in Wend Hardings or Illswater."

With a sigh, Fiyero abandoned his quest for sleep and sat up, taking off the glasses that were no longer as necessary as when they'd started out, as they'd had to fly directly into the rising sun. He looked at the map and compared it to the landscape before them – which was, he would admit, lovely, even if sleep was better – using his sharp eyes to double-check what Elphaba's glasses weren't always accurate enough to determine. He nodded. "Only a slight turn, I think. Can you make that small a change to the wind?"

"I'll just cancel the first spell and start a new one," she replied, shaking her head and consulting her notebook. "It's easier than muddling with little details and– Oh, hello."

Glancing over the edge of the basket, Elphaba had suddenly found herself face-to-wing with a flock of Birds. She wasn't exactly sure what species they were, but given their size and that two of them were wearing waistcoats, she was fairly confidant of it. Fiyero joined her, grinning as he saw the younger ones whirl in circles around their parents as they all glided on the breeze. "Hello, friends," he said. "Enjoying the wind?"

The Bird at the spearhead of their v-formation nodded politely. "We beg your pardon for the presumption, Prince Fiyero, Lady Vizier, but my flock has been travelling east for quite a while and your current was, ah... very convenient," he explained, somewhat sheepishly.

"That's quite all right, I'm glad to help," said Elphaba. "But you should know we're about to change direction. Where are you headed?"

"The village of Bright Lettins, ma'am. Our cousins there have a nest of new fledglings."

Fiyero congratulated them and chatted easily for a minute or so while Elphaba turned to look at her map, then the sky, then nodded to herself a few times. "If we rise about another fifty feet I could conjure a new wind without affecting this one," she said, "but you should know that it will fade in about an hour anyway. I can't get you all the way there."

The Bird looked honoured. "Anything's good, ma'am. Thank you!"

Fiyero looked up into the balloon's envelope, frowning, and said, "We should probably be rising about now anyway – it's been cooling for about a half-hour or so."

Elphaba nodded and warned the Birds, "Do keep back."

The flock flapped ahead and out of the way of the balloon, but they glanced back several times to watch as the Grand Vizier conjured a large fireball and held it up to the mouth of the envelope. After a minute or so, the green contraption began to rise, lifting silently and gracefully until it was out of the magically-induced current, and a different wind immediately began to push them in another direction.

Green palm held out flat, Elphaba stopped it, halting them more or less in place. While she began the complex chant that would change the weather again, Fiyero squinted and re-oriented the map until he was absolutely sure it matched their actual position. When they were both ready he pointed to one particular spot on the horizon, and Elphaba flung her arms to point all ten fingers in precisely the same direction.

In a gust, the new wind materialised, and for a fraction of a second they felt it tease their hair and skin before it swept the balloon up, pushing it forward and leaving them with the amazing sense of stillness that came of moving at exactly the same speed as the air around them. It was incredibly peaceful.

"I could get used to travelling like this," said Elphaba, leaning on the rail and breathing deeply as they flew over her homeland. "We're completely defying the laws of nature."

"It's better than three days by carriage," Fiyero conceded, yawning a bit, "but I don't know if I could get used to the dawn launch."

She shook her head at him, then noticed the large shoebox which had tumbled down during their turn. "I'm the one doing all the work here, you know," she teased, leaning down to carefully pick it up. "Would you rather wait for a natural wind, or spend all your time cranking those propellers they use for the tour? Why don't you to use the burner and risk setting everything on fire?"

"I love and worship your magical power," he promised, hugging her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her neck. "I just wish you could've stopped the thermals so we didn't have to take off so early, too."

"Even if I had, we'd never make it before dark," she replied, tapping his nose. "I'm still not sure we're going to get there on time."

"Then you'll just have to conjure a faster wind," he said lightly. "Until then, view or no view, will you _please_ let me go back to sleep?"

He looked so pathetic that she laughed and kissed him. "Fine, go. But when I want something soft to lean on later, you're _not_ going to start complaining."

"I look forward to my duties as a pillow," he replied solemnly, and flopped down on the floor.

* * *

Hours passed. They drifted up and down, travelling east far faster than seemed possible, and if not for the gradual shift from hills to cornfields and the passing of towns, they could easily have been tricked into thinking they were floating peacefully just out of sight of the Emerald City. In truth, they were almost six hundred miles away, and after eleven hours of easy flight, as the sun began to set behind them, they finally approached Colwen Grounds.

Elphaba started to get nervous. "Just remember, Father's a strict Unionist and the most traditional person I know," she was saying. "He's already going to be cross that you didn't ask him before proposing and–"

"–and if he finds out we've been sleeping together too, he'll probably have a heart attack," Fiyero finished dryly, rolling his eyes at her. "Elphaba, I _know_. I said I'd do this for you and I'll do it properly. I _am_ capable of it."

She let out a long breath and shook her head, apologising by taking hold of his hand. "I know, I know, I just... really want this to go right."

"What could go wrong? You weren't worried about asking Oscar."

Elphaba shook her head, a fond little smile touching her mouth. "It's not like he was ever going to say no," she replied dryly, and Fiyero chuckled.

"That's true enough." The old man had been so happy just to be acknowledged as _one_ of her fathers that he would have cheerfully agreed to just about anyone, let alone Fiyero, whom he truly liked. Although he knew that the request was more a courtesy than anything else, it was a courtesy that gave him validation, and that meant more to him than any traditional right.

"But Elphaba, I'm going to marry you no matter what anyone says," said Fiyero, still puzzled, "your fathers or mine. So again, what could go wrong? It's not like we're a bad match. Politically speaking, he should be over the moon."

She sighed, brief merriment fading. "A _lot_ of things could go wrong. I probably haven't even thought of half of them."

Serious now, he turned, and reached up to brush his fingers across her cheek. "I promise you it'll be fine," he said. "What are you so afraid of?"

Elphaba was quiet. She had never quite been able to tell him that Frexspar considered her too repulsive to be loved at all, or that he'd accused her of abusing her power at the Lurlinemas Ball several years ago. She knew Fiyero would react badly if he ever found out – he had a charming chivalrous streak that emerged at the most surprising of times – and touching though it might be to witness, she really didn't want to start a fight if it could possibly be avoided. Having the abdicated-Heir-Apparent of the Vinkus bloody the nose of Munchkinland's former Governor Regent was a diplomatic disaster that she and Glinda could do without.

To her relief, Frex hadn't brought up the issue since, probably appeased by the constant press speculations pairing Fiyero with Glinda, but she worried that, by coming in and announcing her engagement now, out of the blue, she was only making it more likely that her father would believe she was seducing Fiyero by magical means.

She didn't know if she could stand that. She didn't want to see Frex angry or give him cause to hate her any more than he already did, for she knew he held her responsible for her mother's death regardless of how foolish that was. What she wanted, more than anything, was to hear him say he was proud of her. Of course she would be marrying Fiyero anyway, but she wanted Frex to approve, to give his blessing, not be shouldered aside by people who loved her more.

And yes, she knew they loved her more. Fiyero, Glinda, Nessa and Oscar loved her more than she could ever have expected, but that wasn't quite enough to fill the gap left the one person who didn't. The short, gruff comment he'd made in a recent business letter about how her Equality Employment Act had been good for Munchkinland had made her gleeful in ways she _knew_ were horribly out of proportion to the actual sentiment, but she'd spent too many years trying to earn her father's love to stop hoping that maybe, someday...

Fiyero knew this. Glinda knew more, but he knew enough. He knew they weren't close, that Nessa was the favourite daughter, and he'd seen Frexspar rage at her the one time he'd caught them together, but that didn't mean he understood why it was so important to her. Neither did Glinda; they couldn't see why she was so desperate to have the approval of one father when she had another who loved her with all his heart despite not being around to raise her. But that was just it – Frexspar Thropp had raised her, and for all that Oscar was her blood relative, Frex would always be her father _more_.

But she couldn't explain that, so she just shook her head and leaned into Fiyero's hand, letting him cup her cheek as she said, "Just nervous, I guess."

He looked sceptical, and it occurred to her that maybe he saw through her more deeply than she thought, but all he did was shrug. "If you say so," he replied, looking out at the darkening landscape, the long shadows, and the streaks of sunlight that were still managing to stretch across it. "Anything else you want to tell me five or six times before meeting the governor?"

Her lip twitched in a little smile – damn him for being able to amuse her whenever he wanted – and she said, "Well, you can start by not calling him that, as it's Nessa's title now. I think it's still all right to call him 'Regent', but he was a minister before taking on my mother's job and that's what he likes best."

"'Minister Thropp', then? I can do that. What else?"

* * *

For another twenty minutes they floated on, and Elphaba stopped constantly re-heating the air in the balloon, letting them sink slowly to the ground. They hadn't judged their speed all that accurately, and the sun was almost gone by the time they saw Colwen Grounds by its hazy, leftover red light, but that wasn't what was on Elphaba's mind as they drifted in, now low enough to make out faces and call out names.

What had caught her attention were the many soft lights coming from the far side of the manor, along with the muffled sound of voices and music. There were quite a few carriages parked out front, too, and she shook her head, puzzled. "What's going on?"

Fiyero raised an eyebrow. "It looks like a party," he replied.

"But... I told them I was coming."

A few silver-clad servants could be seen sprinting down paths alongside the house, pulling on gloves with which to catch the anchor rope that Fiyero was ready to throw down. Elphaba was supposed to be opening the balloon's top vent, allowing hot air to escape and lower them faster, but she was distracted. As they floated over to the rear of the house, they were greeted with the sight of several dozen revelling rich folk... and _cheers_.

Elphaba blinked. Fiyero had to reach up to open the vent himself.

Amidst the pinkish lights and happy festivities of the garden party, Frexspar Thropp was standing on the stone steps of the patio. He had clearly just begun to make some sort of speech, and was telling his guests, "... the Grand Vizier, my daughter Elphaba!" Applause broke out again.

Fiyero was somewhat surprised. Elphaba could have been knocked over with a feather.

A few minutes later, the basket had touched down on a wide expanse of grass just beyond the edge of the party, and as their balloon slowly deflated, the crowd of Munchkinlanders (almost all tall, given that they were upper-crust gentility who had long since married out of dwarfdom) approached with Nessa and Frex in the lead. In sharp contrast to his solemn black minister's robes, the man was smiling warmly.

At Elphaba.

Nessarose rolled up to them, pushed by a butler and practically beaming. At her sister's stunned expression she laughed and said, "Surprise!"

Helped out of the basket by Fiyero, who had hopped over the edge a moment ago, Elphaba just shook her head. "What's going on?" she asked in a low voice, eyeing the crowd, none of whom looked ready to throw their drinks at her. "A surprise– Nessa, what kind of–?"

"My friends!" said Frex grandly, addressing his guests. "We all know about all the wonderful things our Wizard does, but over the last few years he has had much help–" he gestured to Elphaba "–and without that help we would not now be facing _the_ most prosperous season Munchkinland has seen in the past ten years. The dedication and sound financial judgement of our leaders have been of aid to us all, so I ask you now to raise your glasses to the one most responsible for bringing such benefits to her homeland. Welcome back, Elphaba; it's good to have you home."

Applause and the _clink_ of toasted glasses followed, and Elphaba felt a huge smile leap across her face as Frexspar offered his hand for a friendly shake. She was so happy, she hugged him.

"Ah – and we welcome her unexpected guest, of course!" continued Frex, patting her back and extracting himself as he noticed Fiyero standing nearby. "His Highness, Fiyero Tiggular of the Vinkus."

Urging Elphaba to let go – it wasn't proper, after all, even for a daughter – Frex approached Fiyero quickly, a pleasant smile fixed on his face as he shook the younger man's hand. Elphaba, who had turned back to her sister in confusion, did not notice.

"I don't understand," she was saying, looking around at the many guests and accepting a glass of wine from the staff. "Why have a party?"

Nessa was smiling, shaking her head a little in amusement. "We missed you," she said simply. "You haven't been home for more than a year now and I know the chances are we won't get to see you again before your birthday, so since twenty-five's a big number I asked Father if we could have a little celebration."

Any gathering that involved the heads of every rich and important family in Munchkinland did not strike Elphaba as 'little'. "You invited all these people just for my birthday?"

"Well, no, that was Father's idea. This is our part of Oz and you barely know anyone important, so we thought we'd make it a social event so both you and I can get to know our people better. Everyone's been eager to see you, Elphaba," she added pointedly.

"They're not throwing mud," muttered her sister, who had just caught sight of a hatchet-faced old hag who used to sneer every time the green child crossed her path. To her surprise, the woman smiled and raised her fluted glass, toasting as though they weren't twelve feet and years of resentment apart.

Then Frexspar, who had finished exchanging pleasantries with Fiyero, turned and said, "Why don't you tell us all about your latest work with the Quadlings, Elphaba? We heard that you _charmed_ Chief Tiger Claw into signing the Four Corners Farmland agreement last autumn." And, as swiftly as if he'd put an arm around her shoulders, Frex turned them towards the house and spurred everyone into walking. Elphaba blinked, startled.

"Well, it – it _really_ wasn't like that," she stammered. "Quadling Country gets the most benefits anyway and they–"

Her voice was then lost to Fiyero's ears, muffled by the chatter of the Munchkinlanders who followed Minister Thropp, the Madame Governor, and the flustered Grand Vizier. Fiyero himself went quietly, nodding politely at the guests, a frown working its way across his face.

* * *

The party was undoubtedly a success. Shifting indoors after what had been a very beautiful day, it was the ideal setting for social interaction – the food was good, the music lively, the hosts welcoming, and the guests chatty. Everyone seemed eager to talk about the prosperity of Oz in general and Elphaba beamed every time someone spoke of 'equalisation' or 'mutual benefits'. She was asked endless questions about her work and her goals, her opinions on this and her decisions on that, and though there were so many people wanting the Thropps' attention that she spent little time with either her sister or father, she often exchanged glances with them, and those glances were always followed by smiles.

That didn't mean, however, that it was a _good_ party. Fiyero knew it really wasn't fair of him to be suspicious just because the minister was being more warm and friendly than expected, but there was something here that just felt... _off_.

Now, Fiyero Tiggular knew parties. He'd lived and breathed them his whole life, from toddling through Vinkun solstice celebrations through to drunken gigs at university and Glinda's formal balls, and he'd come to have an innate sense of mood, the ability to read the tone of a room from the first moment he stepped in – and this place reeked of self-interest.

It wasn't in the words. The words being spoken were the polar opposite of selfishness, all about cooperation and sharing and so on, but the feel of it just wasn't right. Yes, the smiles were genuine, but not generous; the glint in people's eyes was of ambition, not excitement. That in itself wouldn't have mattered much – it was typical of politics, and more or less expected at any gathering of the rich and powerful – if not for the unsettlingly similar conduct of Minister Frexspar Thropp.

Thing was, there was nothing really _wrong_ with his behaviour, and though Fiyero couldn't shake his bad feeling, he couldn't find anything to support it either. The minister was making effective use of his time, talking business with every group of people just long enough to keep their favour before moving on, efficiently managing to speak with everyone at least once. He was polite and courteous, and if he didn't spend much time with his daughters, it was perfectly excusable – he had guests to attend to, and the girls would still be there tomorrow. He was tactful and honest without being dry and polite as polite could be, insofar as Fiyero could tell from joining in several of the man's conversations and eavesdropping on most of the rest. He started to doubt himself. Was he just looking for faults because he didn't like Frex? Was he being a paranoid and overprotective caveman, trying to shield Elphaba from things for which she really didn't need his help?

If so, it wouldn't be fair, because she was obviously happy to the point of ecstatic. She'd told him before how she'd grown up resenting and even a bit afraid of many of the people her father worked with, and the contrast to how they treated her now – congratulating her and asking question after awed question – was striking. She could hardly be blamed for enjoying it. And to be fair, there was nothing in the guests' behaviour to suggest deceit. Of course they would leap at any chance to talk to the Grand Vizier; it was her job to help the people of Oz in any way she could. That they were hoping to win extra favour with slight falsities and mild flattery was a human fault that Elphaba was long since accustomed to from three years of listening to petitions. She was an adult, and perfectly aware that even the most honest of people usually had at least two motives.

He was just afraid that, in the thrill of the day, she might be forgetting it.

Of all the people in the room, Nessarose was the only one who didn't worry him. Quite innocently, she had missed her sister, and several times he saw her try to extract herself from dull conversation to wheel over and ask about little details of Elphaba's life. She was taking her job as Madame Governor very seriously, of course, just as she had been ever since assuming the post, but she spent as much time chatting to old matriarchs about their families or how they were liking the Vinkun tea as she did to town mayors about politics. She talked to Fiyero for a while, too, reminiscing about Shiz and asking some very intelligent questions about Arjiki history. She was the perfect hostess, and aside from the shadow that crossed her face when Boq's name came up by accident, happy.

Fiyero was all but ready to give it up and admit to being wrong when he saw what, had he known it, he'd been looking for all night. Frexspar and Elphaba were standing fairly close by, having two different conversations with different groups and facing in more or less opposite directions. Frex was talking about how schools were in need of additional funding with several people who just happened to have those kinds of funds in their pockets, and said something along the lines of, "...think so many private schools are unnecessary, Mayor Buckleton; my daughter Elphaba was more than happy to learn with children from all sorts of backgrounds..." and at the moment he said "my daughter", Elphaba's head turned towards him. Wearing the steady smile that he'd put on for Buckleton, he nodded and gestured acknowledgement by lifting toward her the hand that held his wine glass, and as he did so, her face lit up with joy.

Fiyero's fell.

Of course. Of _course_. These were politics all right, but politics on a more personal level than she was used to. In the city there was a clear divide between her friends and strangers, with no need to doubt the motives of those close to her, but _here_... The minister's generous use of phrases like "my daughter" were only being used when talking to those people whose help he needed; he'd never said it directly to Elphaba. He was tailoring his behaviour to the public, and public opinion of the green woman had changed since she was given power. She had been judged a success, and so for the first time, these people were seeing her as an asset rather than an embarrassment. Frex was using that for the good of his government, hammering into people's minds the fact that _they_ had connections to the Grand Vizier, which would entice the rich to cooperate with him and Nessa in hopes of gaining favour from her, and through her, the Wizard.

It was all business and no malice, but Elphaba was seeing it as affection.

_Damn._

Fiyero considered telling her, drawing her aside and making enough indirect comments to make her realise how much she was reading into all this... but he couldn't. She was so blissfully happy that he just didn't have the heart.

* * *

They say that things always look better after a good night's sleep. In Fiyero's case, this was mostly true, and not just because a stack of luggage in a wicker basket was a more uncomfortable bed than he was willing to admit.

At breakfast the next morning, things seemed to be all right. Fiyero had managed to get there on time, despite having to sneak up to Elphaba's room to fetch the dark green vest they'd packed into her case, and arrived to find the minister already in deep conversation with his eldest daughter about the renovations being made to some old building she'd apparently known since childhood. She was obviously still rather euphoric, and Fiyero relaxed a bit, his usually-dominant optimistic side pointing out that just because Frex had been playing up their Happy Family image for the guests didn't mean any of it was insincere, just that his actual feelings weren't quite so fervent. Firmly telling himself that Elphaba knew her own family better than he did anyway, Fiyero resolved to try and let it go, to let her be happy, and greeted them both with a friendly smile and an unimportant comment about the impressive view from his guest room. Nessarose arrived a few minutes later, and then they sat down to the meal.

The conversation they kept up was pleasant, even lively, and to Fiyero's surprise both Nessa and the minister managed to keep bringing up topics that interested him – mutual acquaintances, upcoming projects, the Vinkun tea trade, even sports – and Elphaba talked about everything, forgetting to eat so often that by the time the others were done, her bowl was still half full.

"At least it can't go cold," Fiyero teased, for which he received an unusually good-humoured glare.

Frex pushed away his crockery. "Well, Elphaba," he said, "we've made sure to keep our entire schedule clear today, so what would you like us to do with our time?"

Her eyes widened and she had to consciously remember to swallow before speaking. Fiyero caught her gaze, silently asking if now was the time to mention their engagement, but she shook her head.

"Actually, I have something I want to give," she said, grinning broadly. "To you, Nessa – a gift for you."

"Elphaba, you shouldn't have," said Nessa in polite, smiling protest. "It's not my birthday coming up soon."

She didn't entirely mean it, of course – who doesn't like to get presents? – so after some fairly routine insistence, Frex suggested that they move to the sitting room and Elphaba disappeared up the stairs to fetch her mystery parcel.

As Fiyero wheeled her across the hall and through a doorway, Nessa turned in her seat to ask, "Do you know what she's so excited about?"

He nodded, glad that this, at least, was one part of the visit that couldn't go wrong, and smiled at her. "She's been going on about it for months. But I can't tell you, Nessa – I'd end up very, _very_ dead if I ruined the surprise now."

The scale he implied seemed to impress her and she didn't ask more questions while they waited, sitting around a low table that would be holding a tea tray if they hadn't just walked away from a meal. It didn't take long for Elphaba to return, and when she did she was carrying a large box and a nervous expression that kept switching places with a grin.

"This might not work," she warned immediately, putting the box down for Nessa to open. "Glinda and I have tried every test we can think of and we're _mostly_ sure they'll work, but we couldn't experiment properly without a test subject and there's only so much the spells and theory will tell us..."

"Elphaba," said Nessa, puzzled, "it's a pair of shoes."

She was right, of course. Inside the white box were two soft ankle boots, moderately fashionable – or so Glinda said – but nothing remarkable, save for the faint glow surrounding the shocking red leather.

"You need to put them on," said Elphaba, kneeling by the chair. "I hope it'll work – it _should_, and even if it doesn't we should be able to fix it if we have your help. This is from Glinda too, by the way; she came up with the idea of using shoes instead of clothing, and she wanted to be here, but..."

By this point Nessa's normal black shoes and stockings were off, and Elphaba was carefully sliding the first limp white foot into the boot. Nessa was still puzzled, and Frexspar no less so, but as green fingers tugged it into place, she gasped.

"It's warm! It feels so warm, Elphaba – it's almost hot!"

"That'll go away soon," she promised. "It's because the magic in the shoe is stimulating the nerves and blood in your foot. You won't notice after a few minutes. Here, you'll need the other one."

Realisation was starting to dawn on Frex, who looked between his daughters with widening eyes, but it wasn't until Fiyero crouched beside the wheelchair and began to lift the crippled girl from her seat that anything quite so life-changing occurred to Nessa.

When Fiyero tucked an arm under her shoulders and helped her up, she gasped, and as one red boot obediently jumped forward onto the floor, she squeaked, staring at the leg that had never before moved on its own.

Elphaba held her breath.

Slowly, Fiyero let go, easing out from under Nessa's weight, hands still hovering nearby in case something went wrong. Her arms were stiff, sticking out awkwardly as she stared at her feet, and a moment later the second red boot moved.

She had taken her first step.

Frex rose to standing, entirely unaware of doing so. He stared in wonder, his expression beautiful, all soft eyes and smiling lips that trembled with unfinished words. He held out his arms, making a great effort not to move across the two feet of floor space that stood between him and his youngest daughter.

Smiling fit to burst, Elphaba watched as Nessa took two, three, four shaky steps towards her father. Fiyero stayed behind her, just in case, but there was no need; as she reached her destination she threw herself into Frex's arms, shrieking as he caught her.

"Look at me, Father, _LOOK_!" she cried, beaming. "I can _walk_! – oh, Elphaba, _Elphaba_, I can _walk_!" She turned to her kneeling sister, tears in both their eyes, and with a complete lack of grace she moved again, stumbling forward until she was hugging her. "Oh thank you, thank you, _thank you_!"

"You're _welcome_," said Elphaba holding her, burying her face in her sister's hair. "I wanted so much... It _works_," she whispered, almost to herself. "It works, finally. I should have done this years ago."

"You managed now," said Fiyero warmly, as relieved as the others were giddy. "How does it feel?" he asked Nessa.

"_Amazing_," she replied, keeping one hand on Elphaba's shoulder for balance while she scrubbed tears from her eyes."Sweet Oz, I can _walk_. I can run and climb and–" she hesitated, glancing at her wobbly legs. "Elphaba, will I be able to...?"

Elphaba nodded, pulling herself up to stand. "You just have to get used to it. The spell provides extra strength and gives your brain command of your legs, but you'll have to build up muscle power on your own. _Slowly_, Nessa," she cautioned, steadying Nessa's shoulders as she immediately tried to flex her leg; "the magic can't give you agility or balance – you have to learn to control your body yourself. It'll take time, and the moment you take those shoes off, it's gone."

"So I'll have to wear these forever?" asked Nessa, brow furrowed and leaning on her sister's arm as she learned what it was like to stand still. "Does the spell only work once?"

"No, of course not," said Elphaba. "What I meant was that you can't wear them all the time; it's not healthy for your body to have so much magic running through it. As long as you always take them off to sleep at night, you should be fine."

Nessa was too gleeful to worry about that right now. Gripping Elphaba's fingers with one hand, she slowly made her way around the back of the couch, free hand ready to balance on it if she had to. Suddenly she tripped, toe caught in a roll of carpet, but was caught by her sister before Frexspar could panic. "I'm all right!" she cried happily, knees shaking as she moved away from the safety of the couch, testing the strength of her limbs on the open floor. "Father, look, I'm all right! I can _do_ this! Oh, there's so _much_ I can do now!"

She beamed, her joy infectious, and Frex was equally jubilant. "We'll get you the best trainer on Oz," he promised, hurrying forward and taking gentle hold of her left hand, just as Elphaba had on her right. "You'll be dancing in no time at all."

"Dancing!" Nessa exclaimed, the thought never having occurred to her. "Dancing, oh! Waltzes and jigs and– Father, will you teach me to dance?"

"Yes, anything, of course. Here, try this," said Frex, smiling and stepping around to her back, holding both her arms from behind and guiding her towards one of the low ramps he'd installed around the house years ago. He was so intent on helping her balance, so focused on every move she made, that he didn't notice that he'd just shoved Elphaba aside.

The slope was slight, and Nessa shakily but decisively put one booted foot on it, her ankle learning to bend and roll as she shifted her weight, and then she took another step, and another, and another...

And then she, and Frex, were gone. They had moved out the door, into the hallway, and through to the rest of the house without ever once looking back. Elphaba stood where she had been left, elbowed away by Frexspar, unthanked, unremembered, and alone.

Slowly, painfully, her joy crumbled.

* * *

For several long minutes, it was quiet in the sitting room. Elphaba sat on the couch, eyes fixed to the spot where her father had vanished, almost as though will alone could make him think of her. But it didn't, couldn't, and every moment that ticked by made the sour truth all the more clear.

It was so simple. Even if she had earned any approval from Frex with her years of hard work and determination, it had all been undone the moment she gave him one perfect daughter instead of two disfigured ones.

The little voice in her head, the one which had spent all of last night saying this was too good to be true, howled in hollow triumph.

Fiyero tried to help. He put on a bright smile and congratulated her, eagerly asking how she'd managed it, but was flatly told that he already knew the answer, having watched her work for six months solid. Dropping the smile and the attempt at distraction, he sat down and put an arm around her.

She didn't cry. Somehow it never occurred to her.

The room was silent. Outside, they could hear the faint _clunk_ of clumsy footsteps and the muffled cries of surprise from staff members. Nessa's own happy exclamations echoed down occasionally, as did Frexspar's proud tones. Apparently they were climbing the stairs.

It was Nessa he was proud of, of course, not Elphaba. It was clear to her now that no matter what she did, he was never going to be proud of _her_.

Eventually Nessa must have remembered them, for the irregular sound of her walk finally became louder, and then she came through the doorway, lily-white skin flushed from an effort she'd never before had to make. She was absolutely abuzz with questions.

"Elphaba! Elphaba, how does it work? Can you cast that spell on other shoes? Any shoes? What about my slippers, or stockings? This is so _wonderful_, _thank_ you!" she exclaimed, doing a lopsided pirouette that left her dizzy. Frex caught her. Elphaba stayed put.

"The enchantment will work on any shoes that are relatively sturdy," she replied calmly, but without a trace of her earlier joy. "They'll all turn red, though. Side effect."

Nessa was not so self-absorbed as to miss this abrupt change in behaviour. She wobbled in one spot and turned, brow furrowed. "What's wrong, Elphaba? It works! It really, _really_ works. I could even climb the stairs!"

"Yes, and well done, Elphaba; you've given your sister a remarkable gift," said Frex, oblivious to how much those words were supposed to mean to her, and didn't. "We'll have the ramps removed right away, of course," he went on. "The wire-cage lift, too, though that will be a little harder to–"

"Do you love me?"

The room froze. Elphaba was sitting, dark eyes fixed on her father, who stood with his mouth still half-open. Nessa looked stunned, confused, almost stricken, and Fiyero reached out to touch Elphaba as though to protect her from the reply, but she shrugged him off. She had to know.

Frex hesitated. "You're my daughter," he replied, and oh, how different those words sounded after hearing Oscar say them first.

"That's not an answer."

A pause – a long one. He couldn't seem to form an answer.

Elphaba deflated. Her eyes dropped, shoulders slumping. "I guess I already knew that," she said quietly.

Frexspar shook his head in a familiar let's-be-reasonable manner. "Listen, El–"

"You loved Mother. And Nessa. Why them and not me?"

His mouth closed and opened several times... then closed again. He couldn't say anything.

"Did you ever love me?"

Again, silence. There was nothing to say.

Never breaking their gaze, Elphaba slowly shook her head. Without a word she turned and walked off, out through the glass doors and into the garden.

"_Father_..." implored Nessa, but she seem to be out of words, too. After a moment she just turned and hobbled away, following her sister as fast as she could.

Fiyero was left with a blinking Frexspar. The minister didn't seem to notice him, watching the open door with a look in his eyes that was something akin to faint regret.

That just wasn't good enough.

_Caveman coming through_, thought Fiyero, and stepped forward to block the bright square of natural light. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but for all the aggression in his posture, they might as well have been folded – or in fists.

Frex blinked. "Excuse me, Prince Tiggular, I must–"

"No."

More blinks. Could the man do anything else? "I beg your pardon?"

Now he did fold his arms, glaring at the man who had the gall to stand there in honest confusion. "I said no. Do you have any _idea_ how long it took me and Glinda to convince her that anybody could really care about her? More than a year. If not for Nessa I don't think we'd ever have managed. Don't you realise how much she needs you to love her?"

Apparently Frex was still trying to be diplomatic. "Your Highness, I appreciate your concern, but this is a family matter–"

"Yeah, it is, and I'm family now too, because I'm going to marry her. That's what we came down here to tell you, because she wanted your blessing."

Finally, a reaction: Frex's expression went from puzzled to stony. "I cannot give it," he replied. "I won't allow her to–"

"I don't care," said Fiyero, "not anymore. You don't deserve to be her father." He turned away; this conversation was finished.

"You're under _enchantment_," Frexspar informed him with infuriating certainty. "I don't know how she did it, but–"

Fiyero whirled around, jaw tight, but didn't punch him. Elphaba would have been proud.

"She did _nothing_ of the sort," he snarled. "You can go ask the Wizard if that'll prove it to you – I'm _not_ under a spell." The little part of his mind still in the mood for humour added, _Not literally._

"You don't understand," said the minister, trying to force his tone to be calm. "The Unnamed God has marked her as an example of sin. Green is a sign of–"

"You actually think this is all about her skin," Fiyero said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Figures. This is why I never took religion seriously."

Caught off-guard, Frex blinked again, and Fiyero went on.

"Look, I don't care what you think. We're announcing it when we get back, and the Wizard already approves. You can either play your part and pretend to be happy for her or make a scene, but it won't change anything." Catching sight of a portrait of Melena, looking young and mischievously happy, Fiyero pointed and said, "They told me she loved Elphaba. Maybe you should think about what _she'd_ want you to do."

Then he left, coat swirling dramatically behind him.

Frex looked at the portrait, to the door, and slowly sat down.

* * *

Elphaba hadn't gone far. For all that the manor was a private residence, there were too many staff members about to ever really be alone, and so she had ducked into the little memorial garden Frex had built for their mother years ago (pointless, really, as there were reminders of her everywhere, but it was conveniently hedged-in), and dropped heavily onto a stone bench. It had been so hard to keep her chin up in there that now, she just stopped trying.

Nessa arrived soon after, puffing and panting, bits of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. She looked so upset that Elphaba's first instinct, after years of being the caretaker, was to go and comfort her, but today it was Nessa's turn to be selfless, and she got there first. Stumbling in and scratching her new boots rather badly, she reached the bench, collapsed by her sister's side, and hugged her.

The gesture was much appreciated. It was awkward, as Elphaba was taller even when sitting down, but they made it work. She leaned over into her sister's arms, head tucked onto her shoulder, and Nessa rubbed her arm to soothe her, trying to work out what to say. "He didn't mean it," she managed at last.

A bitter laugh, almost a cackle of black humour. "Don't delude yourself," said Elphaba, miserable but still dry-eyed. "I've been doing that long enough for the both of us."

Tightening the hug, Nessa shook her head, unable to believe it. "Maybe... if you just talk to him, try to–"

"_No_," said Elphaba, more harshly than she'd intended. Catching herself, she softened and went on, "No, Nessa, I can't do this anymore. I've tried everything I ever could to make him love me, and it hasn't been enough. It never will be."

"But–"

"_Nessa_," she implored softly, pulling back and to look her in the eye, "he _doesn't love me_. He can't even bring himself to say he's proud of me."

"He's not the talkative type," she argued desperately. "Please, Elphaba..."

Elphaba closed her eyes, shoulders shuddering as she shook her head. "You can't tell me you don't see the difference in how he treats us, Nessa. He doesn't want me – doesn't _want_ to love me. He wants to live in a perfect world where Mother's alive and you're their only child. Please try to understand, he honestly couldn't care less about me. I don't even think he hates me; I used to, but I don't. He's just indifferent, and always will be. Can't you see that?"

There was a long silence in which sister looked at sister, one wrestling with denial, the other with dejection, and at last she said, "I... I do. Elphaba... I'm so sorry."

And then they were hugging again, and it was impossible to say who was comforting who.

That was how Fiyero found them, several minutes later. He ambled into the hedged garden, hands in his pockets and kicking small stones, looking weary. He smiled a little, though, upon seeing them, and sat down quietly. "You're all right?" he asked. Elphaba looked up, still leaning her head on her sister's, and nodded.

"It hurts," she admitted, "but it's... it's time to accept it. I'm through with waiting and wishing for things that will only hurt me. I have to move on."

Fiyero nodded, rubbing her shoulder with one hand. After a long moment he confessed, "I, uh – I told him. I know you wanted to do it yourself, but..."

She shook her head; that whole mess seemed insignificant now. "What did he say?"

Fiyero paused. "...I told you it wouldn't make a difference."

Something bad, then. To her own surprise, Elphaba found she wasn't at all curious about the details. She just shrugged. "So much for that."

But Fiyero didn't tend to settle for less when someone he cared about was unhappy, and the look on his face was thoughtful. Nessa, who had been listening, was puzzled, but before she could ask Fiyero turned to her and asked, "Would _you_ give us your blessing, if it'd make Elphaba happy?"

Nessa shook her head in confusion at the same time Elphaba waved it off, saying, "It's okay, Fiyero. You can't fix this."

But he shook his head, knowing that this was still important to her. "It's tradition," he argued lightly, "but who says I have to ask a father? She's family, and _she_ loves you. How about it, Nessa?" he went on, turning to the other girl. "Would you mind having me as a brother-in-law?"

Nessa's eyes widened and she glanced between them, startled. After a moment, she spluttered, "What happened to 'silly rich boy'?"

At that, Elphaba actually laughed, if quietly. She shrugged. "I guess I don't mind," she said, and Fiyero chuckled.

It was the humour that did it. Nessa had known for years that her sister had feelings for Fiyero, though unlike her father, she had never suspected love potions. That Elphaba had someone who loved her while Nessa didn't was hard to accept with any grace, and had only made things worse the day her highly-moral big sister had swooped in and taken Boq away from her. She was jealous, and had sometimes been close to spiteful, but seeing them laugh, and knowing how rarely that green shell cracked enough to express real feeling... it was a sign of great maturity on her part that Nessa swallowed her envy and offered them a smile. "Does that mean you want me to give you away at the altar?"

Now Elphaba laughed a real laugh, and pulled her sister close. "I love you, Nessa," she said.

"I know," said Nessa quietly, hugging her back. "I love you, too."

* * *

One week later, back at home in the Emerald City, Elphaba, Fiyero, Glinda and Oscar were sitting in his little dining room, sketching out the upcoming announcement.

"So is the minister coming to give you away or not?" asked Glinda, shuffling some note cards on the table, two of about two thousand. Elphaba – who would have gladly walked down the aisle alone if they hadn't already disregarded enough nuptial traditions to make the press scream – shook her head.

"He says that, as a Unionist, he can't be seen to support a ceremony with such heavy pagan influence–" she flicked a hand towards the stacks of sample fabrics for her dress, all white and all flatly rejected because she refused to wear that colour "–but he won't shame the Wizard by refusing to attend."

Glinda groaned. "Perfect. I can't even _begin_ to imagine how that will be seen."

"Couldn't we find some way to explain it that makes it sound like he's being noble or something?" asked Fiyero, looking up from the rough guest list. "We've made up excuses before."

"Not unless you want him to officiate," replied Oscar, who was writing the first of many invitations. "It's the only role that wouldn't be seen as a downgrade."

An idea struck Elphaba, and on impulse, she turned to him. "You could do it," she said, and Oscar looked up, puzzled.

"Officiate? Well, I suppose, given that there's no religion involved..."

"No," said Elphaba "I mean, you could walk me down the aisle. It wouldn't look insulting if he stepped aside for you."

Oscar blinked, startled, and then a few stray tears formed in his eyes. "My dear girl... I would be honoured."

Elphaba smiled slightly and nodded, and then added, more for his sake than hers, "Thank you... Father."

* * *

Author's Notes: For this chapter I've used the map in the Maguire novel and worked with some very rough measurements and guesses in terms of time and travel distance; please don't take them as fact.


	20. The Announcement

Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz  
Author: Sedri  
Rating: PG-13 / T  
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither _Wicked_ nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

* * *

Chapter Twenty  
_The Announcement_

Year 25  
Spring

On a fresh, sunny morning in the Emerald City, when the sky was clear and the muffled noise of city life could be heard beyond the palace walls, Elphaba Thropp, Grand Vizier of Oz, stood silently before the grave of Madame Morrible.

She was not kneeling, let alone grieving; she just stood there, eye-to-eye with the woman's cold portrait, studying the thin lines engraved in the tall marble obelisk. It had been a long time since she'd come here with a handful of flowers and quiet apologies – or come here at all, for that matter – yet today, for some reason, she'd found her feet carrying her steadily toward this quiet corner of the garden.

It was strange, she thought, how much had changed since the day the old woman had died. Besides the complete transformation of her personal life – and Elphaba almost smiled, thinking back six years to the hot-headed teenager who had so nearly run screaming from the throne room – Oz itself had changed enormously. The law once again recognised Animals as fully-fledged citizens with the same rights as any human, and the horrific loss of speech some of them had suffered was already being treated as a trouble long since past. Certainly, those who had or had nearly become mutes would never forget, and some of the more traumatised ones were still undergoing therapy, but between aggressive legal action and the forced entry of more than one clandestine laboratory by the Gale Force, Elphaba and her companions had made very sure it was never going happen again.

And as for the human-centric bias which had always been the root of the problem... well, it was fading. Slowly but surely, Oscar's 'heroic' portrayals of herself and Glinda had indeed become ideals for the people to follow, and although Elphaba knew she would never be adored in the same manner as her friend, she was respected, and any judgement she made was always treated as irrefutably just. Though she had offended several people and upset the easy lives of many others, she felt she had done remarkably well, and the joy she felt whenever anyone,

human or Animal, stopped her on the street just to say "thank you" – those moments made it all worthwhile.

So wrapped up was she in her thoughts that she didn't notice the approaching footsteps until Oscar was right beside her. He took a moment to fold his hands and pay respects to the monument, then said, "I didn't expect to find you here."

Elphaba just shrugged. "Neither did I," she replied.

There was something odd in her tone, and Oscar's brow furrowed. He turned to her. "What?"

She shook her head, looking thoughtful. "It just occurred to me," she said quietly, "that if the Madame hadn't died things might be very different today. There was a lot more she could have done with her life."

With a trace of worry, Oscar moved to stand directly before his daughter. "It _was_ an _accident_," he said seriously, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You shouldn't feel guilty."

"I don't," she promised, smiling slightly to reassure him. "I've just been wondering – what if? _What if_ she'd lived?"

He shrugged, shaking his head and sliding both hands into his trouser pockets. "We'll never know," he said, "and I think it might be better that we don't. The Land of What-Might-Have-Been, as you call it, doesn't do anyone any good. We can't spend all our lives living there." He gave an ironic little smile. "Believe me, I know."

Elphaba turned to him, her eyes glimmering with a light amusement most unsuitable for a graveyard. "Since when have you been wise?" she asked, only half-teasing.

"Since you gave me a well-deserved shake-up," he replied, mostly serious. "I never realised how tightly I'd shut my eyes until you came along and shouted it at me." Hesitating a moment, he nodded towards the memorial. "I suppose we have the Madame to thank for that, in a way. Without her, you and I would never have met."

"True," said Elphaba, nodding slightly as her eyes followed the same path. Then she tilted her head sideways, remembering. "You know, it's funny; the day I met Madame Morrible she told me that with my gifts, I might someday be able to meet you. I was... overwhelmed," she admitted, chuckling, "but then suddenly I had this vision. It was clouded and hazy, but looking back now, I'm sure it was a prophecy."

"_Prophecy_?" he echoed, fascinated. "Like... fortune telling? I didn't know you could do that! What did you see?"

She hesitated, actually blushing as she laced her fingers together and glanced down. "A celebration," she replied shyly, "about me. It was _huge_. The vision wasn't clear – I couldn't see where people were, or hear what they were saying – but I'm certain they were celebrating some big event that had to do with me." Then, frightfully embarrassed, she hurried to add, "Of course, then I learned that hazy visions are not certain yet, because things can still happen to change them, and I'd honestly forgotten all about it until last week when Glinda suggested we declare a national holiday on the wedding day – you remember? The moment she said it the vision jumped back into my head, twice as strong and brighter and clearer, and I... I can't help but think," she admitted bashfully, finally slowing down, "that, maybe, that means it's actually coming true."

Oscar smiled broadly, proud, and reached out to squeeze her hands. "I don't doubt it," he said warmly. "Between Glinda's plans and the excitement today's speech will stir up, there won't be a soul in Oz who doesn't at least raise a toast to you for your wedding."

Elphaba was still smiling, but shook her head as though to talk herself out of it. "People don't _like_ me that much," she told him without a trace of self-pity. "Some of them are still convinced I'll hex them into butterflies if they cross me. They'll be excited as long as they think it's Glinda's wedding, and then they'll just be polite."

But Oscar was shaking his head. "My dear girl, do you _ever_ listen to what she and I say? You don't make enough public appearances to realise how much people _have_ come to like you. We've spent years telling them how good you are, and right or wrong, that makes them believe it. You'll have your celebration next month, I promise, and I won't even have to do anything to make it happen." Then, because she still looked sceptical, he added, "Besides, everyone loves a good reason to party."

She laughed. "That's true enough. I suppose we should give them that extra day off, too."

"Couldn't hurt," he replied, quite jolly and glancing at the clock tower. "But, if we don't get there soon, Glinda will skin us both alive and there won't be any celebrations for anybody."

Another smile, this one fond. "The Time Dragon waits for no one," Elphaba agreed lightly, and turned to look one last time at the marble gravestone. "Rest in peace, Madame," she said, and meant it, and then walked calmly out of the garden, done with that part of her life.

She and Oscar had to cross almost half the palace to reach the Grand Balcony from which the day's announcement would be made. Cutting through the library, they almost tripped over three of Doctor Dillamond's masters students – who were so lost in their research that they didn't even notice – and made their way through the residential wing. They were halfway up a flight of stairs when Oscar suddenly cried, "_Oh_!"

Elphaba turned.

"Oh, I _forgot_," the man said, cursing himself. "I forgot, I wanted to..." he looked around for another clock, flicking his head back and forth and looking apologetically at Elphaba. "I'll be back," he promised, pointing both his index fingers at her; "I promise. I just forgot something – a surprise for you."

She frowned, puzzled. "Can't it wait? We have less than ten minutes."

"I suppose it could, but... I can make it, I promise," he said earnestly. "I just need to pop up to my room and back. Tell Glinda that I _will_ be there."

And he dashed off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Elphaba watched, then shrugged, silently disclaiming responsibility, and continued on herself, arriving at the antechamber behind the Grand Balcony only two minutes later. Glinda was already there, standing before a mirror in a sparkling dress, as was Fiyero, sitting down and opening a letter. Beyond the curtained windows a buzz of voices could be heard chatting in the city square below. "Ready, Elphie?" said Glinda, smoothing the last strands of her hair into place.

"More or less," she replied, peeking out at the fragment of green crowd she could see from this angle. "I still don't see why there has to be such a fuss, though; it's just an announcement. We could have printed it in the newspaper and saved everyone a lot of trouble."

Shaking her head, Glinda said, "And _that_ is why I am your Press Secretary and not the other way around. Heaven knows what havoc you'd wreak if this were _my_ wedding," she added under her breath, securing her tiny lace hat with a pin.

"Oz forbid we deny you any glamour," Elphaba teased, taking a seat beside Fiyero. "What's that?" she asked, nodding at the letter.

"Hm?" He looked up, having not been paying attention. "Oh, this. It's from my parents," he said, waving the paper. "Delayed reply – they were on a trip north and the messenger got lost. They 'officially approve of' our engagement," he quoted, "and Meru's over the moon at the idea of having a big sister, so you can stop being nervous about your in-laws now, all right?"

Elphaba rolled her eyes and nodded, admittedly more relieved than she showed, but Glinda frowned. "_Fiyero_," she said pointedly, "you told me they replied weeks ago. I wrote my speech on that assumption! What if they'd refused? What if that letter arrived a day later and–?"

"They would never have refused," he assured her, shaking his head. "I told them all about it, exactly the way you _instructed–"_ he teased "–pointing out that I'm not heir apparent anymore, it's my life, and this can only be a good thing. Okay? Don't worry."

Actually, the letter he'd sent had been a lot less formal, more along the lines of, _I'm marrying Elphaba. Any objections?_ He'd been tempted to add, _And no, I'm not joking_, but decided that if that needed to be explained, he didn't want to hear their answer. Nonetheless, their approval was sincere, and Glinda, still stressed, let out a breath and nodded.

"Just... don't do that to me, Fiyero. I've set this up _perfectly_ and you – neither of you!" she added, pointing a warning finger at Elphaba "– are going to mess it up." She looked around. "Where's Oscar? It's three minutes until noon."

"He said he had some sort of surprise and is coming," replied Elphaba calmly. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"He had better. I sent all my assistants out to spread rumours that he's going to be there today, and people will be _very disappointed_ if he's not."

She said it like a death threat.

When the clock struck noon three minutes later, she had practically set the date of his execution. Barking orders that sent her assistants running frantically towards Oscar's suite, Glinda sucked in a deep breath, tossed her hair from her shoulders, and put on a relaxed, professional smile. The doors opened – magically, of course, as was their habit by now – and she went to face her expectant public.

Straightening her pointed hat, Elphaba stood up with Fiyero, but tugged on his hand, keeping him inside a moment longer. His brow furrowed, but he smiled when she reached up to kiss him and said, "I love you."

His reply was non-verbal. She liked that kind better anyway. A moment later, smiling, they walked out into the bright morning sun.

The crowd was _huge_. That was the first thing she noticed; a beyond-words sort of huge. The sliver of it she'd seen from the window was _nothing_ compared to the sight of thousands of green-clad Ozians packed together in a blurry mesh of excited faces. Everyone was looking up, applauding as the three young leaders came into view.

Elphaba felt her heart start to beat a little faster.

Just ahead of them, Glinda was waving and smiling and obviously holding out a desperate hope that Oscar would appear _right_ _now_ and rescue them. He didn't, though, and so for the next few minutes they were stuck in an awkward sort of limbo. Glinda filled it as best she could by entertaining reporters and answering trivial questions, and Fiyero did the same, but Elphaba just waited, green hands clasped, quietly taking in the world.

Then, finally, they heard the tell-tale sound of synchronised footsteps and the crash of too much ceremonial armour; Oscar's heavily-ornamented formal guards were coming out, thumping their gilded spears on the ground just as someone inside rang a gong. Stepping back to flank the doorway, Elphaba stood directly across from Glinda, who had prepared the world's iciest smiling glare to fix on Oscar the moment he walked out. He wilted a little when he caught sight of her, but this reaction was completely lost amidst that of the Ozian crowd below.

The most accurate description would be to say that they exploded.

That's what it felt like. Even from above, one had to wince as a wall of noise hit. It was absurd. The crowd was a sea of green, surging back and forth like the ebb and flow of a tide, screaming with joy. People were climbing out of windows and crawling on rooftops, waving so hard they nearly lost their balance. The applause was almost literally thunderous.

Elphaba had to smile. Thanks to her, almost half of those people were Animals.

Standing to the side, Glinda relaxed, her neatly-organised schedule more or less back on track. Fiyero was calm and at ease, surreptitiously holding Elphaba's hand, and as for Oscar, he was basking in the adulation of his people. Because going out in public always carried the risk that his lack of real power would be discovered, he did so even less often than Elphaba, and so this special appearance was doing exactly what Glinda had predicted – stirring everyone up to be as excited as possible about the news they were about to receive.

She might have been a bit off about the scale, though. The Wizard's merry waves and wide smiles weren't just winding up the crowd, but possibly driving them _mad_.

Not that Oscar was doing much to discourage it. He loved this, loved the attention, and it wasn't wrong that he should enjoy a little bit of it... but five solid minutes was going too far.

Rather pointedly, Elphaba coughed. She had to exaggerate a bit to be heard over the racket, but didn't exactly mean to shout in his ear. He jumped, saw her expression, and sheepishly backed off, motioning for Glinda to take the podium.

One could almost hear the moan of disappointment. Moving forward, Glinda smiled, knowing better than to take it personally. "Fellow Ozians!" she cried, throwing her hands wide. "I am delighted to be the bearer of happy news!"

"Where have you _been_?" Fiyero asked under his breath, using the loud speech as a cover for conversation. "We almost died by hairpins and nail polish."

"Sorry, sorry," Oscar whispered, fumbling for something in his vest pocket. "I had them all sitting ready but then they fell behind the cabinet so I had to move it and–"

"Yes!" Glinda went on, oblivious. "Possibly the happiest news that _anyone_ can deliver, news to which our beloved leader–"

She had to stop there, drowned out by whistles and shrieks of delight, all directed at Oscar. He nodded and smiled at the crowd, but didn't wave, knowing it would only set them off again. Glinda made broad, mostly-ignored gestures for silence.

"I wanted to give you these," he went on, unfolding his hand to offer Fiyero and Elphaba two plain, elegant, fairly old rings. "You don't have to use them, of course," he hurried to add. "I know you can get anything you want from the jewellery shops, and it's your wedding, after all, but these belonged to my parents and, well, call me sentimental, but it seemed right."

Pleasantly surprised, Fiyero reached out to pick up the thicker metal band, twirling it in his fingers, out of sight of the crowd. He looked at Elphaba and shrugged, clearly open to the idea, since he didn't mind one way or the other. Oscar watched her with well-veiled hope.

For a moment, the noise from below seemed unimportant. Elphaba picked up the other ring, remembering it from the picture of her grandmother. She knew that these things were meant to be powerful symbols of unity or eternity or whatever other spiritualistic whatnot that circles could be made to represent, but when she looked at it, all Elphaba saw was _family_.

And, well, she had to wear some kind of ring for the ceremony anyway; better this than a cluster of fifty emeralds. Smiling, she nodded, and Oscar beamed.

"–our _beloved_ leader has given his personal consent and blessing," Glinda continued, having finally quieted the excited horde, though it wouldn't stay that way for long. "Friends!" she declared. "One month from today, we will join together to celebrate a day of happiness. One month from today, _we will celebrate..._ a wedding!"

Who knew it was possible for them to scream even louder?

These were different screams, though – shriller, higher-pitched cheers of approval, but still ear-splittingly loud. Voices shrieked, hands clapped, hoots were hooted and whistles whistled. Figures could be seen jumping and hugging and dancing, and someone appeared to be hanging from a lamp post. It was _ridiculous_. But, also, kind of nice. Elphaba held her breath, imagining, for a moment, that they intended it for her.

It took almost as long as last time for Glinda to make this clamour die down, and when it did she was still smiling. "Yes, my fellow Ozians, a wedding," she said. "My two dearest friends, Prince Fiyero of the Vinkus and our very own Grand Vizier, Lady Elphaba Thropp, will be married in one month's time here in the Emerald City! It is truly _thrillifying_–" she went on, not giving anyone a chance to voice their surprise Glinda herself wasn't the bride "–to know that two such wonderful people have found happiness together, and I know you are all as excitified for them as I am. And now, will you please join me in welcoming the newly-engaged Fiyero Tiggular and Elphaba Thropp!"

She turned and began clapping, enthusiastically leading the throng, and Elphaba shook her head, stepping forward with Fiyero. She let him take her hand, lifting it in triumph, fully expecting to face a crowd more full of hushed confusion and whispered doubts than sincere approval.

Except, that didn't happen. They cheered anyway.

Maybe it was the idea of a grand-scale wedding. Maybe it was because their Wizard had made a special appearance just to endorse it. Maybe it was simply because Glinda's presentation tactics had worked, but whatever the reason, they cheered.

And it didn't sound like politeness.

As the sound grew louder and louder, building on itself, the Ozians clapped and waved and shouted out their congratulotions. Enthusiasm has a way of being infectious, and very soon the crowd had worked up an energy to rival that which they regularly showed for Oscar, or Glinda.

But they weren't cheering for Oscar or Glinda. They were cheering for _her_.

She realised then that Oscar had been right. Yes, they still saw her skin first and yes, she scared them a little, but years of work had also made Elphaba into something of a hero. For all that Oscar was the figurehead and Glinda was the golden beauty, every tiny victory Elphaba had won had been credited to her, and everyone, Animal or human, knew how much good she had done for them; they had come to believe in her essential goodness. So they applauded, and cheered, because for all that it was unexpected, this was their Grand Vizier, and she looked happy.

And Elphaba _was_ happy. The sight of it, all these people, approving of _her_ – it sparked a glow in her heart, a thrill she had wished for her entire life. It swelled up, ballooning inside, and left her feeling like a puddle of liquid glee. It was something she'd _never_ felt before.

Suddenly her schoolgirl prophecy asserted itself again, and Elphaba saw that she had been wrong about another matter – it wasn't next month's wedding that she'd seen six years ago, it was this. It was a crowd of people looking up at a podium and shouting their approval for what Glinda had just told them, celebrating a great event in her life.

Then, less than a blink later, another vision struck.

This one was different; there were many images jumping on top of each other, snapshots of what was to come. She saw the heirloom ring on her green hand, older and thinner and twined with Fiyero's. There was Nessa, running a race in glowing red boots, and Glinda, happily cuddling a baby. She saw Fiyero and Oscar and Tevien, and many other faces she didn't know yet. She saw herself writing edicts and presiding over law courts, settling conflicts and helping the needy with the same whirling, passionate need to make the world perfect that had brought her this far. She could see now that this would never change no matter how much hard work lay ahead, and she wouldn't want it to. She saw her life in flickering moments, a never-ending flow of laughter and frustration, anger and joy, and through it all there was peace, friendship, and love.

It was a vision of her future.

And it wasn't hazy at all.

_The End_

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Author's notes: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Any reviews would be very much appreciated.


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